Truly Madly Deeply
by TXWitchywoman
Summary: He hated what she went through, but it meant that he could be with her. She was exactly what he needed. For her part, he was exactly what she wanted truly, madly, deeply. Adult themes of romance, drama, sexiness, humor- this tale has it all!
1. Chapter 1

**May 3, 2003**

On the fifth anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry, Hermione, and Ron found themselves at Flourish and Blotts for a book signing. Only the second book endorsed by the trio, titled _Life Goes On_ , _An Epilogue_ had been written about their lives after the battle and their current take on the wizarding world. The queue of people seeking to buy a book and have the three autograph their book extended out of the shop, along the pavement.

It was also on this day that Harry first noticed a problem between Hermione and Ron. While he and Hermione were signing books and chatting with the shop's patrons, Ron was across the shop, chatting with a group of witches, and Ron looked as if were enjoying the attention a little too much. How could he flirt with witches with his fiancée sitting right there? He glanced to his right and saw Hermione's _annoyed with Ron look_ , a look she had perfected over the years. He also couldn't help but notice the sadness that flashed in her eyes, but she banished it with a warm smile when the next customer stepped to the table.

That night, Harry, Ron, and Hermione joined a group of their friends at _The Golden Goblet_ pub in Diagon Alley.

Harry raised his pint glass. "To five years of peace."

Hermione raised hers. "To absent friends."

More than one of them glanced to Ron across the pub, perched on a barstool, chatting with a couple of witches at the bar. Hermione took a long drink from her glass which prompted Harry to quietly ask if she was alright. She nodded and started on a pretzel.

"So, how many books do you reckon you signed today?" Seamus asked.

Hermione smiled at him. _Bless him for breaking that moment of tension!_ "The shop manager said 223."

#

The next day she and Ron went to the Burrow for lunch like they always did on Sundays. Hermione hoped that the tension between she and Ron wasn't obvious, but if anyone picked up about the tension, they didn't say anything. After lunch, Ron said that he had something to do and left. Hermione stayed to visit, talking about the transition she was thinking of making at the Ministry.

"I know someone in the magical resources office. She said that the Department of Magical Law Enforcement will be interviewing for investigator positions next month."

"You don't like where you're at?" George asked.

"I like it just fine; my biggest goals were accomplished. After five years, the proposed bills for house elf welfare and werewolf rights are _finally_ on the Wizengamot docket. My boss said that because the DMLE has so many thumbs in the ministry pie, it'll be the best way to advance within the ministry."

"The Aurors are always taking applicants too," Harry added.

 **June 13, 2003**

Hermione departed for home after a third and final day of her orientation for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, where she had transitioned from the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. She stopped at the market in Diagon Alley to pick up a loaf of fresh bread to go with the beef stew that had been in the slow cooker all day. She also chose a rhubarb pie, Ron's favorite, and left for she and Ron's flat.

"Love, I'm home!" she called out and hung her robe on the hanger by the front door.

She took a few steps into the living room and saw boxes scattered here and there. When she noted that an arm chair was missing, Ron emerged from the bedroom, suitcase in hand.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"Can we talk?" he replied.

She nodded and took a seat on the couch.

"The stew smells good," he said and took a deep breath. "I'm moving out."

"Come again?"

"I'm moving out."

She took a deep breath to calm her growing anger. "Can you tell me why?"

"I've been thinking about it a while, and it's time that we moved on… from each other," he said and reached for her hand.

She drew her hand back and stood. "You want to break up? _Now?_ "

He held his hands up in what he hoped was a calming gesture. "I know this is sudden for you, but-"

" _Sudden?!_ Ron, we've been engaged and living together for two years! I've been waiting for you, _as you wanted_ , to get married when the time is right!"

"Um, well, I was talking to mum and she said—"

Hermione rolled her eyes and mumbled, " _Here we go_ …"

"What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded.

"You talked to your mum and now you're moving out."

"It's not like that!"

"Then why are you breaking up with me? What did I do?" she demanded.

"Nothing! It's just that-"

She took another breath to try to calm down and caught a faint scent of perfume from his shirt. She didn't wear perfume. She paled and sat down.

"There's someone else, isn't there? Was she here?"

He said nothing, and his cheeks blushed, so she knew she was right. She quickly wiped a tear that fell.

"Let me guess… hmm, someone more suitable, am I right? A house witch?"

"It's not like that," he stated. "What's wrong with a house witch?"

"There's nothing wrong with being a house witch, but that's not me. I thought you loved me for who I am."

"I do love you!"

"You're breaking up with me! You're interested in someone else! Please explain how that's loving me!"

"I'll always love you as a friend. That will never change, please understand," he pleaded.

"Just pack your things and get the fuck out of my life," she stated and left the living room.

Ron tried to talk to her as he finished packing his things, but she ignored him as she ate a bowl of stew and flipped through a magazine. When he was finally gone, she threw her bowl against the wall and cried as she had never cried before.

After Ron left, she unplugged her flat telephone, turned off her mobile, and closed her floo. A Saturday spent staring at the walls, crying, and banishing Ron's things turned into a Saturday night that included a copious amount of wine, chocolate, ice cream, and crisps.

When she woke on the couch from an award-winning hang-over, she didn't go to the Weasley home as she usually did on a Sunday. She tossed back a hang-over elixir, showered, and left for Diagon Alley in search of breakfast.

#

She flipped through the past week's _Witch Weekly_ over tea and scones. It was a quiet Sunday morning and there were only three other people in the café. At her elbow, she heard someone softly clear their throat. She put down her tea cup and looked up. There stood Draco Malfoy with a copy of _Life Goes On_ , _An Epilogue._

She nodded at the book. "It makes a nice paperweight," she quipped.

"I'm sure it's not that bad," he replied. "May I join you?"

She nodded and waved to the empty chair seat across the table.

"Are you here alone?" he asked.

She nodded and tapped on the carafe. "It's full, would you like some?"

"Sure," he said and she got the server's attention to get a cup for Draco.

He patted the book. "It's a happy coincidence to see you here. Mum couldn't get to the bookstore yesterday, so here I am. Without sounding too cliched, may I have an autograph?"

She nodded and removed a pen from her handbag.

"What makes you say this is a nice paperweight?" he asked when she signed _Enjoy the book, best wishes, Hermione Granger_.

"I'm joking. The author did a bang-up job. He was pickier about it than we were."

"Have you read it?"

She nodded. "The advanced reader copy a couple of months ago. There's some necessary literary embellishment, according to the author, but it's an honest work. Nothing like that rubbish Harmel tried to sell last year."

"I heard that it didn't sell at all."

Hermione shook her head. "The publisher actually lost money on it. We disavowed any acknowledgement of its value, refused to make a statement about it, or even speak with the author."

"Are you going to the St. Mungo's charity ball?" he inquired.

She fidgeted with the corner of her napkin. "I don't know."

"Well, you have all week to decide."

She nodded and took a sip of her tea.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"I'm very tired this morning and I've got a lot on my mind."

"That's right, you transferred to the DMLE. You got there just in time. There's rumors of smuggling. My squad got wind of it first."

She raised an eyebrow. "Well, you are in Imports. Smuggling what?"

"It's a mix of goods. They're trying to dodge the import taxes and inspections. The one we caught is grassing out the others."

"I'm sure I'll hear about it if the DMLE gets involved."

#

The next morning in her cubicle, she stared blankly at a case file involving smuggled potions ingredients. She heard some knocks on her cubicle partition and looked up. There stood Harry with a sad smile on his face.

"So I guess there's another Weasley I'm not talking to?" he asked. "I heard what happened from George."

"Harry, he's persona non-grata to me, but that doesn't mean it's the same for you," she said, massaged her temples, and gestured to the chair in the cubicle. She looked as if she hadn't gotten a wink of sleep, but he wasn't about to point it out. Her bottom lip quivered when she spoke.

"Harry, he said the stew smells good and that he was moving out in the same sentence."

Harry frowned. Would Ron ever move beyond the emotional range of a teaspoon? One of the department clerks stopped at her cubicle with a file folder, smiled at Harry, and gave the file to Hermione.

"The Rollingwood case?" Hermione asked and opened the file.

The clerk nodded.

"Thanks," Hermione replied.

The clerk nodded and left. He glanced at his watch. "I do want to talk, but I have a prisoner interview at Azkaban this morning."

She tapped a piece of paper tacked to the wall titled _Azkaban_. "I know."

"Really, how are you?"

"Angry? Confused? Heartbroken? All three," she answered.

"Carver's for lunch?" he asked.

She paused from the page she was perusing. "Sounds good. If you get there before me, order for me?"

"Sure thing," he said and stood. "Don't work too hard."

She chuckled. "Me? Perish the thought."

 **Carver's Bistro, Diagon Alley**

Well into lunchtime, Harry watched the lunch crowd from inside Carver's Bistro, one of the many new businesses started in Diagon Alley after the war. He placed his order and Hermione's lunchtime favorite and flipped through the current _Quidditch Monthly_ when the bistro's doors opened, and Hermione strolled in. Many eyes aside from his followed her progress to their table.

"Sorry, my boss fell into lecture mode with the department," she said and sat down.

"About what?" he asked.

" _14, order up!_ " was heard from behind the counter. Harry held up a card with 14 on it. He went to the counter and returned with two sandwich plates.

"Chicken and ham with an extra pickle," he said and placed hers on the table with a flourish.

"Thanks," she said and took a humungous bite of her sandwich.

"So, your boss?" Harry asked.

Hermione nodded and finished chewing. "He lectured about report writing."

"And you said that with a straight face," he grinned.

"Imagine me hearing it," she chortled. "How was Azkaban?"

He took a sip of his cola and shrugged. "Cold, spooky, depressing. What are your weekend plans?" he asked.

"Definitely going away somewhere," she replied.

The rest of lunchtime passed with their usual amusing chat and observations. He could tell Hermione was putting on a brave face, but he knew she was hurting badly. For her part, she was grateful for diverting conversation and the comforting, steady company of her best friend. When lunch was finished, he took away of a piece of cheesecake and they returned to the Ministry.

#

That night, Hermione sat in her flat with take-away shrimp pad thai and watched a replay of a rugby match on the telly. She looked around the flat and decided that she wanted to move. Two years ago, she and Ron let the spacious flat with the intention of marrying and starting a family, but there was no point in wasting the cost for the space now. The landlord would probably charge her out of the nose to let her out of the flat lease early, but since Ron decided to just move out without notice, he could bear some monetary responsibility for it, couldn't he? His name was on the lease agreement too.

Also that night, Harry was hosting Seamus Finnegan, Dean Thomas, Neville Longbottom, and Wayne Hopkins for supper and cards. They were in the library when the floo from the parlor sounded and Ron's voice was heard. Harry sighed and set his cards aside.

"Uh oh, trouble," Seamus commented.

"Not from me. Excuse me, gents, this won't take long," Harry said and left the library.

In the parlor, Ron was pacing with his hands in his pockets. Harry crossed his arms and leaned on the door jamb.

"You heard?" Ron asked, recognizing Harry's stance.

"About you being a lying tosser? Yes, I heard."

"It's not like that!"

"It's not? So, you couldn't break Hermione's heart _honestly_?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"How long were you dating this other witch behind her back?"

"I wasn't really _dating_ her."

"You were engaged and living with Hermione, but not really dating another witch… so what were you doing with this other witch?" Harry asked.

Ron shrugged. "Stuff."

"What you should have done, the very day you realized you were interested in someone else, was to tell Hermione. Yes, it would have hurt her, but it would have been the decent way of going about it. Now everyone thinks you're just a lying tosser."

"No, they don't!" Ron declared.

" _Yes, they do!_ " echoed the four from the library.

Harry smirked at him. "And what does it say about this other witch? She knew you were engaged and living with someone, and she was fine with being the witch on the side?"

Ron was speechless. His brothers had asked the same thing.

"Come on, don't you know how it is?" Ron asked weakly.

If there was a _worst question in the universe_ to ask someone, Ron had just asked it.

"No, you git, I don't know how it is. This kind of thing just runs in the family, I guess," Harry stated.

Ron flushed redder than a tomato when the insult hit home. Harry was referring to Ginny, who had shagged her Quidditch team's athletic trainer the year before at an after-match victory party. She thought she had gotten away with it, but morning sickness was hard to hide. At first Harry was thrilled about finally having a family, but he wasn't stupid. After being with her for two years, he was aware of her monthly cycles and contraception. She must have thought he couldn't look at a calendar, do the math, and deduce that she did indeed conceive- but it was when he was away on a case. He broke their engagement and Ginny was released from her team. She was now a single mother working the Quidditch section of _The Daily Prophet_ and an occasional column for _Quidditch Monthly_.

Ron's shoulders sagged, and he left the way he came. Harry sighed and added yet another ward to block someone's entry by floo.

"Game on," he called out and rejoined the four in the library.

Late that night, he received a text on his mobile from Hermione. _Paris for the weekend. See you Monday._


	2. Chapter 2

**June 28, 2003**

She decided to dip into her Order of Merlin award, which was largely untouched, for her Paris weekend. Why not enjoy the best hotel room, wines, and food Paris had to offer? She arrived early in the morning in at La Route Dorée, Paris' version of Diagon Alley. A quaint but comfortable looking inn called _The Whispering Lilly_ beckoned her attention. She shouldered her knapsack and opened the door. A sleepy cat greeted her with a lazy stretch on the front counter and a young witch emerged from a side office with a steaming cup.

"Bonjour," she said with a smile.

"Bonjour," Hermione replied and gave the cat a scratch behind her ears.

The woman nodded. "Welcome to Paris. Is this your first time with us?"

"Ma premiere fois ici, oui," Hermione said and patted the counter, "mais ma premiere fois a Paris, pas." (My first time here, yes, but not my first time in Paris.)

"Tres bien," the woman acknowledged with a nod. (Very good.)

Hermione requested the best room available, a third-floor balcony room that had a view of the Eiffel Tower. Once inside the room, she looked at the breakfast menu and decided to avail herself of the inn's breakfast selection. After that, who knew?

#

At Ginny's flat, Ron spread a sheet and blanket out on her couch and let a pillow drop.

"Thanks again for letting me crash here, I'll be out of your hair soon enough," he said.

Ginny was still in a state of shock that he had just up and left Hermione. Not only that, but because of another witch? Hermione was universally liked, so it must have ended badly if he was barred from everyone's home he knew to include the Burrow, Harry's home, and their brother's flat.

"Can you tell me what happened?" she asked.

"I'm not sure what happened," Ron said.

"What do you mean?" Ginny asked.

"I think I made a mistake," Ron admitted.

" _You think?_ " Ginny asked. "Ron, a mistake is putting mustard instead of dressing on a sandwich. I know I made more than a mistake with Harry."

Ginny checked on her son and got the two of them butter beers before he started on the story. Twenty minutes later, Ginny was flabbergasted.

"All of this is because you think you misunderstood something mum said! You shouldn't have let mum talk you into anything, if that's what happened. Hermione was the best thing that ever happened to you! She loved you and was ready to start a family with you!"

Ron ran his hands through his hair and flopped back on the couch. "You think I don't know that!"

"Harry was right, too. You should have told her from the beginning that you were interested in someone else, it would have been a more amicable break-up. Hermione would never have done that to you," she said.

They heard her son babbling from his cot. Ginny sighed and stood. "Wish me luck. Once he's up, he's up."

 **#**

Hermione surveyed her hotel room and sighed. She had spent most of the weekend wrapped around bottles of wine, and the excess of wine and self-pity had wakened a dormant Spirit of Shopping within her. A couple of sheer cocktail dresses and a pair of admittedly fabulous heels were on the chaise lounge. Flashy, _expensive_ jewelry that she never would have bought under any sober circumstances were on display on the desk. She winced when she saw the receipt. She approved of the more practical bag of wine, champagne, cheeses, and breads on the table by the bed. She shrugged and realized that she had had truly enjoyed the decadence of the weekend despite the resultant financial carnage. Perhaps she would do it again come next weekend.

She packed her belongings and gave the porter a generous tip for his help during her stay. When she checked out of the inn, she thanked the clerk Danielle for directing her to the local nightlife hot spots.

"Back to London," Hermione sighed and shouldered her knapsack. Domino, Danielle's cat, was stretched out on the counter.

"Can I ask a favor?" Danielle requested.

"Fire away."

Danielle slid a small piece of paper across the counter. "I cannot locate this book in any of our local bookstores. I wonder if your magical London might have it."

She took the paper. "I'll look and let you know."

"Fantastique."

Hermione gave the inn cat, Domino, a last scratch under the chin. "Au revoir."

She returned home and put away the cocktail dresses and shoes with a laugh and wondered if she would ever wear them. When she was in the kitchen sorting the food she brought home, her mobile rang. She looked at the caller and saw that it was Harry.

"Bonjour!"

" _Well, uh, bonjour to you too! How was Paris?_ "

"I drank and shopped entirely too much, but I enjoyed myself."

" _That's good to hear. Want some company?_ "

"Of a fine English chap? Sure, the floo is open."

" _Be over in a tick._ "

A minute later, the floo flared to life and Harry stepped through. He smiled at her and she gestured to the couch. He sat down and took a good look at her.

"Maybe I should spend the weekend in Paris too," he said.

She chuckled. "If I can, I'm going back next weekend."

"Good," he agreed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"What?" she asked, recognizing his _we need to talk_ stance.

"Arthur and Molly paid me a visit earlier today," he said.

"And?" she said, gesturing for him to continue. "You don't have to worry, I'm not going to flip out."

He nodded. "Molly was beside herself. She blames herself for what Ron did."

"This I've got to hear."

"Weeks ago, Molly found out about this other witch that Ron was canoodling with, her words. She was furious and told him that he better decide _that very day_ who he wanted, that they didn't raise their sons to be two-timing wizards. By no means did she mean for him to break up with you; he decided that on his own."

She closed her eyes and laid her head back, humming a melody from the wireless she heard from the French café during her breakfast that morning.

"He decided all right, just not on me."

"Arthur flat out said that Ron made the worst mistake of his life, and that you were the best thing that ever happened to him," Harry said softly.

"If that was true, he never would have left me. He didn't love me like I loved him," Hermione whispered.

She shuddered, and tears seeped from beneath closed eyelids. She opened her eyes when she felt him pulling on her arms to settle her on the couch beside him.

 **July 1**

Hermione was studying a brief from the growing smuggling case when a clerk appeared at her cubicle.

"Miss Granger?"

Hermione turned. "Yes? It's Clarice, right?"

"Yes, Miss Granger. There's a Ron Weasley here to see you."

"Please tell him that I'm busy."

Clarice nodded knowingly, and Hermione sighed. How many people already knew about their break-up? In their world, gossip traveled as fast as the speed of light.

"So you don't wish to speak to him?"

Hermione nodded. "Correct. If he refuses to leave—"

 _Because he's that way…_ "Call a hit wizard. He has no reason to be here."

The others in the office looked pointedly at each other and Clarice left. And of course, Ron made a scene. At the watch desk, he refused to leave.

"That's bollocks! Just tell her that I'm here!"

The Hit Wizard on duty stood. "As you've been told, Miss Granger received your message. As you've also been told, _she's_ busy with work. You have no legitimate business here, so you must leave."

Ron huffed and tried to step around the desk to reach for the door. The bigger Hit Wizard on duty at the watch desk grabbed him back by the collar and pressed the tip of his wand against Ron's temple.

"And I thought the watch desk would be boring today," the hit wizard quipped.

#

In his office, Arthur was reviewing a report from the latest case, a confiscation of artifacts from a Muggle museum. His clerk knocked on his door jam. "Arthur, there's been a problem with your son down at the DMLE. He's in a holding cell for attempted trespassing and disorderly conduct."

Arthur sighed. "Thank you."

It could only be Ron. He doubted someone would ever pop in and say that Bill or Percy had caused a problem at the Ministry. He flipped to the next page in the report. His wayward, hot-headed son could stay where he was, he had work to do.

After lunch, Harry decided to pay a visit to the DMLE holding cells. He stopped in front of the cell Ron where was currently sulking.

"What do you want?" Ron demanded.

Harry snorted under his breath and made to leave.

"Wait! Get me out of here!" Ron exclaimed.

Harry paused and looked back over his shoulder.

"I just wanted to talk to her!" Ron protested.

Harry sighed and took on his Auror persona. "Let me make this clear to you. Are you listening? _Really listening?_ "

Ron replied with a choppy nod.

"I can't get you out of here. You have to answer for the attempted trespass and disorderly conduct. If she doesn't want to talk to you or see you, that means that you have to stop being a git and respect her wishes."

"But I need to explain things to her!" Ron stated. " _And_ I got sent a bill to close the lease on the flat!"

"You left, what do you expect? For her to stay in the place and pay for all of it by herself?" Harry asked.

"She's moving out!" Ron exclaimed.

"Again, what did you expect?" Harry asked.

"That she would… that we-"

"That she would what… welcome you back with open arms?" Harry asked. "I hate to break it to you; no, I look forward to telling you this. There's about a hundred wizards just waiting for her to be ready to date again. There's a lucky wizard out there who will know that she's the best thing that will ever happen to him."

Harry left the holding cells with Ron looking like someone had just stabbed him in the heart.

Over the course of the week, Hermione's friends helped her pack and move her belongings to Grimmauld Place, where she would be living until she found a new place. Harry was happy to have her there. He had guests over all the time, but having Hermione there was different, from say, if Dean or Katie were living there. He couldn't explain _how_ it was different if someone were to ask, but there it was. He went to Tesco to stock up on her favorite foods and drinks, did an extra cleaning on the guest loo and bathroom, and sorted and straightened the library. He even placed vases of flowers here and there around the home.

Her former landlord already had people ready to look at the vacated flat. Luckily, the landlord was an understanding sort who was just as surprised as anyone else when Ron just up and left. He agreed to let Hermione out of the lease with only her half of the lease quit to pay, since Ron left with no prior notice.

 **July 5**

In the Ministry canteen, Harry, Hermione, Seamus, Katie Bell, and Dean Thomas were waiting in line to pay for their lunches. At the register, Hermione indicated that she would be paying for all of them.

"All of you helped me move this week, it's the least I can do," Hermione said and was beckoned to a side conversation by Katie.

" _Seriously?_ " Hermione murmured, and Katie nodded. Hermione shook her head, sniffed her chicken salad sandwich, and took a bite.

"So, Hermione, what have ya' planned for the weekend?" Seamus asked.

Harry's sandwich stopped halfway to his mouth. Why did he feel a flare of jealousy at Seamus' question?

"Paris," Hermione replied and continued her discussion with Katie.

"Would you care to have a have a drink with me after work sometime next week?" Seamus asked.

Everyone at the table was rendered speechless. Seamus Finnegan just asked Hermione Granger on a date?

"Are you asking me on a date?"

"Yeah, I guess I am," Seamus replied.

"Sure, just ring me," she said and held up her mobile.

Harry no longer had an appetite for lunch.

"Alright?" Hermione asked him.

"The ham tastes off," he lied.

"Then don't eat it, it might make you sick," she advised.


	3. Chapter 3

**I thank you all for the reviews, except for Qoheleth, who is now obviously an anonymous guest reviewer. How do YOU hide from yourself? This person has also designated his or her self the police. I stress again, if you don't like adult-themed tales, then don't read them. Stop fixating on me and move on.**

 **For the rest of you, enjoy the story.**

 **July 5, 2003**

Harry heard a few soft knocks on his bedroom door and lifted his head from the pillow. In a sleepy daze, he wondered who would be knocking on his bedroom door so early. The door cracked open and he heard Hermione's voice.

"Hey, I'm leaving. See you Sunday night," she said softly and closed the door.

His eyes popped open and he scrambled to a sitting position, tangled in the sheets. He meant to talk to her before she left, not drift off back to sleep! He leapt into denims and t-shirt and hopped down the stairs, but she was already gone. He went to the kitchen and kicked a chair under the counter in frustration, which sent it flying across the room. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His frustration wasn't her fault. He placed the chair back under the counter and went to prepare coffee to find that the coffee was already made. So was breakfast, covered and kept warm by a spell. The morning paper and post was even laid out!

#

In Paris, Hermione checked into _The Whispering Lilly_ and slid a book across the counter.

"Voila," Hermione said.

"Fantastique!" Danielle sang and flipped through the book. "Merci, 'Ermione!"

"Where's Domino?" Hermione asked of the cat.

Danielle set the book aside and shrugged. "Dans le quartier."

A third-floor balcony room Hermione had the previous weekend wasn't available, but a second-floor balcony room was. She would have enjoyable time this weekend as she did last weekend, but without the silly, drunken shopping sprees. The shop clerks must have had a good laugh at her expense. Literally.

That night, she watched the lighting of the Eiffel Tower and made her way back to La Route Dorée, then to La Solstice Club, a local spot Danielle had recommended that she visit this time around. She stepped inside, got a whiff of the place, and chuckled. Just enough of the _wacky backy_ in the air to know it was there, but not enough to get high as a kite. Two wizards at a table winked at her and she continued to the bar.

"Votre meilleur rouge, veuillez," she requested. (Your best red, please.)

"Certainment," the barkeep replied. (Certainly.)

He poured a glass of wine and slid it to her across the bar. She swirled it around a bit, sniffed it, and took a sip. The barkeep raised an eyebrow. She smiled and lifted the glass. "Delicious, salut."

He nodded and moved to the next patron.

Two glasses later, she was feeling quite good. She hummed along to the music and watched an obvious loving couple dance. She cocked her head sideways and examined them. Were she and Ron ever that way? Did they ever cling to each other that way? Ron had certainly never kissed her that way.

"Lucky them," she mumbled into her glass.

She was aware that someone took a seat and glanced sideways. Okay, a very attractive wizard took the seat next to her. Early thirties, dirty blonde hair, hazel eyes, and he looked as if he cared about how he dressed. She couldn't help but give him a second look.

"Que boi-tu?" he asked. (What are drinking?)

"Le meilleur rouge de ce club," she replied. (This club's best red.)

"Pardon me," he answered. "We don't see many English women in here. It's a local place, you see. However, your French is very good."

"Merci. The clerk at the hotel recommended it."

"Ah, I see. You wanted more local flavor for your weekend holiday?"

"Something like that."

"You have no one in England to spend your weekends with?"

"Yes, but I like to get away."

"But no one to share your nights, non?"

"Am I that obvious?" she asked.

He chuckled and shook his head. "Non, but a pretty young witch such as yourself must have a good reason for spending the weekend in Paris all by herself, keeping company with a glass of wine. I'm guessing it was a man."

"You're incredibly perceptive," she said.

"It comes with my particular occupation," he replied.

"Which is…?"

He quirked an eyebrow and handed her a business card. She focused her sight and read the card. A gigolo? Well, this was a first for her!

"Are you shocked?" he asked.

"Admittedly, yes," she said, but it gave way to her insatiable curiosity. "How much for your services?"

"It depends," he said and took a sip of wine.

 _I can't believe I'm considering this!_ she thought.

"Do you give back massages?" she asked.

His lips quirked. "I have many different clients, who request many different things. Massages are among them."

"Do you have a girlfriend?" she asked.

"It's hopeful of you to think so, but no woman would put up with a man having sex with other women on a regular basis, no matter how good the money is," he said.

"Does it ever get boring?" she asked.

He shook his head and gave her a searing look from head to toe. "Every woman is different, and a woman's body is never boring."

He knew by the question and the way she blushed that her sex life had been less than stellar. Not a prude exactly, or she wouldn't still be talking to him.

"Would you like to come back with me to my room?" she asked.

"I would be delighted…?" he asked and extended his hand.

"Hermione," she said.

"Quite a name," he murmured and kissed her hand. "I'm Phillipe."

She apparated the two of them back to her room and tossed her clutch on the desk. She took a breath and turned around.

"I've never done this kind of thing before," she said.

"First of all, _relax_ , we do what you want," he assured her and nodded to the champagne on the bedside table. "Do you have a dressing robe?"

She nodded and went into the ensuite. A few minutes later, she emerged in her satin dressing robe. Phillipe had opened the champagne and poured it into flutes.

"To new experiences," he said and they tapped their flutes.

She took a sip and smiled at the delightful, sweet taste. He gestured toward the bed and she blushed.

"I've been told that my back massages are magnifique," he assured her.

She giggled and took another sip of champagne. She set the flute on the bedside table and lay down on her front. Her chin rested on her folded arms and she looked up at him curiously. Despite his years of experience with women, he thought that she was adorable.

"The men of your country must be mad," he murmured.

"About one of them, I agree," she quipped.

He set his flute aside and slid onto the bed next to her. He moved her hair aside and started massaging soft circles on her gown.

"Would you like me to touch you?" he asked.

She nodded and calmed her breathing. The only person who had ever seen her with so little clothing was Ron. He gently pulled the belt loose and drew the top of the gown down, exposing her back. He usually had lotions and oils for massages, but this was an unplanned encounter. No matter, he was a professional, satisfaction was always guaranteed. He ran his fingertips down her spine and smiled at the sound of her sigh. No lotions or oils would be needed with this one.

"Your skin is lovely, I look forward to touching it," he whispered and straddled her thighs.

He leaned forward and pressed on the small of her back with the heels of his hands. She gave off a muted grunt and let out a breath. He continued up the length of her spine and massaged around her shoulder blades. She sighed and moaned in relief and pleasure.

"You have a gift," she gasped.

"So I've been told," he chuckled.

As the massage continued, he could finally feel her relax, and the knot of tense muscle below her right shoulder was now gone. Just how tense and stressed had this young woman been? Broken relationships sent much business his way, and Hermione probably was no different. Hmm… what to massage next? He shifted to take the weight off her thighs and moved his hands lower.

Her eyes popped open when he started massaging her arse. She didn't even know her gown had fallen completely away! He was good! She was surprised, but it felt just as good (and arousing) as her back.

"Does this feel good?" he asked.

"Oui," she murmured.

"Shall I make it better?" he offered.

She looked over her shoulder and quirked an eyebrow. He moved one hand to her quim and started slowly, gently massaging her outer lips while massaging her arse. She groaned and let her face fall to the bed.

"Let yourself feel this, lovely one," he murmured.

" _Yes_ ," she breathed and spread her legs to allow more room for his hands.

He shifted on the bed to get the best vantage point to manipulate her quim. She shifted and pressed against his hands. Ah, this young woman was hungry for this. He would certainly oblige her.

She knew she was shameless in her pleasure, but she didn't care. This man was an artist, and he was just using his hands! When he urged her to her knees and gave her a lingering lick along her clit, she thought she would hit the ceiling. What had she and Ron been doing? _Nothing_ apparently!

"Turn over, I want to see your pleasure," he suggested.

There was no reason for shyness anymore, was there? He did this for a living and look where his mouth had already been! She turned over and he smiled.

"Your body is like a buffet of the finest foods," he said and nodded to the bedside table. "If you would, pass me a flute of the champagne?"

She did so and he took a sip before dribbling it over her breasts. He delved his fingers into her quim and brought her to her first orgasm of the evening while lapping up the champagne on her breasts. He almost climaxed himself and had to calm himself before the next round of pleasuring her again.

"You're rather greedy in your pleasure, Miss Hermione," he commented and took a long sip of champagne and gave her the other flute.

"I've never done this kind of thing before, but I like it," she said.

"How old are you?" he asked.

"Twenty-three."

"And you had a man?"

"We were engaged for two years."

"And you never did this?"

"No, and now I'm kind of annoyed about it. So much wasted time, you know?" she said and played with the edge of the sheet. "He didn't like oral sex or anything… _different_."

Phillip took a sip and licked his lips. "Then he is mad. You are a very desirable woman. Would you like to continue?"

She nodded enthusiastically, always an eager student.

"Good girl," he purred and urged her to spread her legs again. "More?"

She nodded and gasped when he dribbled champagned on her quim.

"How clumsy of me," he said and leaned over to clean up his spill.

When his tongue touched her clit, her hands delved into his hair and her back arched. She lost herself to the pleasure as his tongue and lips reduced her moaning and babbling nonsense that would only come out of her mouth at times like this. He stopped and she opened her eyes. Why did he stop? His face was flushed, and he was stroking his cock with eyes hungry for her.

"I'm going to fuck you now, and it will be _vigorous_ ," he said, rightly guessing that she would like it. "And I would like to find my release inside of you?"

She shuddered and nodded. "Yes, all of that."

He spread her legs wide, lined his cock up at her quim, and thrust inside. He shuddered at the perfect feeling of her heat and tightness. He pulled back and thrust in again, deeper.

"More!" she cried out.

He put her knees over his elbows and shifted forward, opening her up even more. He looked down to where his cock was working her, focused on pumping deep and hard into her. She was moving her hips with his, crying out for " _deeper, harder!_ "

" _I knew it! You like it hard!_ " he gasped. " _Come for me, let me hear your pleasure!_ "

She never knew it could be like this! She loved the feel of him cock thrusting hard in and out of her. She was nearing her climax, so she lost herself to the moment.

" _Oh…. I'm coming…_ " she cried out mindlessly dug her nails into his back.

He barely felt her nails, as his own release was building. He pumped hard and fast, watching the astonishment and ecstasy on her face when her climax hit. He grunted and moaned when he hit his own peak, and he couldn't help but take hold of her hips and pound into her through his release.

"Mon dieu," he murmured when he felt flaccid and collapsed on her chest.

"I agree," she chuckled and ran her hands through his hair. "That was fantastic, thank you."

"You're welcome."

In what was to be another odd occurrence for him, he had fallen asleep with a client. It was his fault really, as he didn't explain the rules before he agreed to go back to her room. It had been easy to forget the rules and he didn't even remember falling asleep. He glanced at the bedside clock. It had only been a few hours and she was in the shower, humming. Hmm. Maybe she would be up to another learning experience? She was a sexy, eager pupil who had so far been a pleasure to teach. He rose from the bed and opened the ensuite door. Hermione was in the shower and she was a tantalizing vision: hot water was running down her body, her eyes were closed, and she was humming a melody of some sort. She must have sensed he was there when she opened her eyes.

"How long can you stay?" she asked.

"As long as you like," he replied.

"Care to join me?" she asked and blushed when she realized that she was looking at his erection.

"Look all you like," he said, sauntering toward her. "Now that you know what you like, you have no reason not to look."

He had a point. With Ron sex had become a chore. She rarely got off, and she usually had to take matters into her own hands after he got off. Now, shagging was something she could enjoy if she could find a man to do it right. She turned the shower off and took a towel from the warming rack.

"Do women give you head?"

That was a good question. "Hm. Here and there, but not much. I get paid to give pleasure."

"But do you like it?"

"Pretty one, every man likes it."

Every man except Ron apparently, who thought that no one's mouth had any business being near anyone's genitals.

"I've never given head."

"And let me guess, you would like to learn?"

After the shower, he sat on the edge of the bed and Hermione knelt on a pillow between his legs. He was in lecture mode, both becoming more aroused by the moment.

"You do realize there's going to be more fucking at the end of this?" he asked, stroking his cock.

She bit her lip and nodded, unconsciously massaging her breasts. Did she even know she was doing it?

"Until your throat becomes accustomed to the size and sensation of a cock, you must take it gradually. For the more adventurous, there are products that slightly numb the throat, so the man can glide down the woman's throat. I've done it. I stood over her and quite literally fucked her mouth. It was a marvelous feeling," he mused and grinned when she shuddered. "But tonight, you can suck my cock however you like. I will enjoy it, believe me. Just be careful of your teeth."

She rested her hands on his thighs. "I want you to enjoy it. I don't like to be bad at anything."

He gathered her hair around the back of her shoulders. "That you're willing to please a man in this way is sexy, pretty one. Never forget that."

He took in a breath when her mouth first wrapped around the head and sucked. He closed his eyes when she took it in further and ran her tongue along the underside.

" _Yes_ ," he whispered.

She bobbed her head back and forth and few times while keeping pressure with her tongue. She went a little too far on one bob and paused, but kept going. _Good girl_. Feeling braver, she started sucking harder. He leaned back and rested on his elbows, watching her suck and lick his cock.

"You're a natural, lovely one," he murmured and let his head fall back when started sucking harder and faster, then alternated to slower and softer. When she took his balls in his mouth, his hissed in pleasure and sat up.

She felt as if she could come herself she was so aroused, as she heard his murmurs of pleasure and encouragement. She felt a new sense of powerful eroticism that she could bring him pleasure this way. She scooted closer and wrapped her arms around his waist and sucked faster and harder. He couldn't help but to roll his hips into her mouth and praise her efforts. He wanted to come inside her again, if she would allow it, and a new position for her to experience. He urged her to her feet and to the bed.

"That was magnifique, now for your reward, pretty one," he said. "Do you want another _vigorous_ fuck?"

She squeezed her thighs together and unconsciously massaged her breasts, feeling like a big bundle of need. _"Yes, I want it, yes."_

"Hands and knees," he suggested.

Her eyelids fluttered and she did so. He got on his knees behind her and massaged her quim. "You're dripping back here. Did sucking my cock do that?"

" _Yes,_ " she whined.

She felt his cock nudge her opening and then ease in, slowly. Impatiently, she pushed back to take him in. He chuckled. "Impatient and greedy, are you? Very well."

He took hold of her hips, leaned over her, and with little finesse, fucked as she wanted.

#

She woke, feeling more relaxed than ever, and brushed her hair out of her eyes. She sat up and saw that she was the only one occupying the bed. Oh well, she shrugged. It was fantastic while it lasted. She was famished, but it was three in the morning. Did The Golden Road have an equivalent of The Leaky Cauldron where food was offered 24 hours a day? (Even if it was a dodgy-looking stew.) She dressed and went downstairs, hoping for someone to be at the front desk. She was in luck. Two younger wizards were playing cards, and Domino meowed at her appearance from the countertop.

"Yes, miss?" one of them asked.

"I know it's early, but is there somewhere I can get something to eat?"

They set aside their cards and one that bore a familial resemblance to Danielle spoke. "We have something here that might hold you over until breakfast, perhaps?"

"Thank you, I appreciate it. Are you related to Danielle?" she replied.

"She's my sister, our family owns this establishment, I'm Marcel," he answered.

He disappeared into a side room and emerged a few minutes later with a platter of bread, cold cuts, cheeses, fruit, and carafe of water.

Late Sunday night, Harry was making a late-night raid on the fridge when Hermione returned.

"Harry?"

"Kitchen," he called out.

She appeared at the kitchen door with a smile. "Midnight munchies?"

He closed the fridge door. "Something like that. Another fun weekend?"

Her cheeks blushed at his question. "Yes. Well, good night, and thanks again for letting me stay here."

She turned to leave.

"Wait, tell me about Paris. We only ever talk about work."

"What do you want to know?"

"What did you do? What did you see? Meet anyone?"

She blushed when she thought of Phillipe and decided to leave that part out. She sat down at the table and took an apple from a bowl of them on the table.

"Hmm… I stayed at this quaint inn called The Whispering Lilly, and…"


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: Many thanks for the encouraging reviews and thoughtful critique! I try to be better with every tale. I've been on the fan-fic ride since 2005, and I'm honest enough to admit that my earlier stuff is awful. Not the story ideas, but the execution of the stories in terms of grammar and usage – everything that makes a good story a great story. In my flimsy defense, I came from the world of technical writing, a world of structure, adherence, and linear thinking. In technical writing, there's a clearly defined subject, with information already available. The information is then transformed into an article for a journal, a thesis, paper, or report. It's easy. Fiction, not so much. There's really no structure. The author is limited only by imagination and the occasional writer's block.

I don't worry _at all_ about anonymous "guest" reviews, where the "review" is often crass, rude, and unhelpful. It's a fact of fan-fic life I'm used to. These hit-and-run guest reviews serve no purpose. It's merely the chance for internet-brave individuals to vent their dislike behind the protection of anonymity. Cool, guest, go ahead. If you think you can do better, then do it. I encourage you to do so.

For the rest of you, enjoy the next installment!

#

 **September 19, 2003**

At lunchtime, Hermione chatted with Katie and Susan in the Ministry canteen.

"I've got a pile of birthday cards on my desk, and enough cupcakes to supply a bakery," Hermione said.

"Is Harry still throwing your birthday party at The Golden Goblet?" Katie asked.

Hermione nodded. "As far as I know, yes. I've been forbidden to run off to Paris tonight," she said with a chuckle.

"How are things with Seamus?" Katie asked.

"They aren't," Hermione replied.

"Aw, sorry," Susan said.

Hermione shrugged. "No need to be. We dated for a few weeks, and he was a good shag, but we agreed that we just don't have a connection for the kind of relationship that we're looking for."

When they finished eating, Susan and Hermione left, but Katie stayed to meet up with Wayne Hopkins, her hopeful relationship. Harry appeared at her table with a tray, and he had an odd look on his face.

"Would you like to sit down?" she asked. "Is everything okay?"

He didn't mention that he had overheard their entire conversation with Hermione from behind a large potted plant. What was that saying about eavesdroppers?

"Is Hermione still dating Seamus?" he asked.

"No, it didn't work out, from what she said," Katie replied, wondering why Harry was asking her that, here and now. What a random question! "Why? Are you asking for someone?"

Harry took a deep breath. "Yes, for me."

"You want to be with her? Wow, that's really sweet."

"You think we could really make a go of it?"

She smiled and patted his hand. "You two would be a perfect couple. Now that I think about it, I wonder how in the world you two _haven't_ hooked up before now."

"She's been-"

"Yes, your best friend since forever, but now you're seeing her as more, perhaps? You've had her up on a pedestal for so long, but she's a normal woman under all that intelligence and practicality. She has feelings and needs just like every other woman. Seamus saw that and made his move."

Harry was startled when Wayne's hand clapped on his shoulder. "Hermione's party still on for tonight?"

Harry stood and fumbled with his tray. "Yeah, seven."

"I'll be there," he replied and caught Harry's bottle of pop before it fell to the floor.

Harry nodded at the two and left the canteen.

"What was that all about?" Wayne asked and sat down.

"Harry had a lunchtime epiphany," Katie chortled.

#

Unbeknownst to Hermione, Harry plotted with her boss to keep her late so that Harry could prepare Grimmauld Place ( _not_ The Golden Goblet) for her birthday party. It was really going to be a surprise when she hurried back home to get ready for her party to find that it was already there!

 _This really could have waited until Monday! Working late, on a Friday night, on my birthday no less! Harry is going to murder me! How much did he pay to rent out The Golden Goblet tonight?_

Hermione's boss chuckled when he saw Hermione slap a file shut and stalk to his office. She calmed before stepped into his office.

"The outline for the Havens preliminary hearing," she said and held up a file.

"Good, because you're presenting it to the Wizengamot, Wednesday, nine a.m."

"I've only been here for a month, and this is my first internal Ministry investigation," she protested.

"You have to start somewhere," he replied and waved her concern away. "Don't worry, Richard will be your back-up. Now, go home. Happy birthday, by the way."

#

In her rush, she inhaled a bit of soot and sneezed when she stepped from the floo into the Grimmauld Place library.

"Bless you," Neville said and she looked up. Harry and everyone else she knew filled up the space of the library.

" _Happy birthday_!" they shouted.

She dropped her satchel in surprise, and in comic timing, her hair fell from its bun. Katie stepped forward and helped Hermione out of her work robe, and Susan placed a glittery _Birthday Girl_ tiara on her head. Everyone started singing the birthday song when Harry came into the library with a two-tiered, milk chocolate cake with whipped milk chocolate icing and twenty-four flickering candles. Harry placed the cake before her with a smile and urged her to make a wish before blowing out the candles. She closed her eyes for a few seconds, opened them, and the blew out the candles. Katie sliced the cake and passed out slices, while Susan doled out servings of ice cream. Presents appeared and the birthday girl started on them.

Books, boxes of chocolates, gift baskets of chocolates, fragrant bathing bundles, piano sheet music, theatre tickets, film tickets and other gifts she was sure to enjoy put a much-needed smile on her face. Someone took a picture of her next to the growing tower of chocolates.

"Got enough of that?" Seamus asked.

She rolled her eyes at the old joke. Her addiction to chocolate was well-known, as well as her stashes of the stuff everywhere: her handbag, kitchen, dining room, bedroom, her desk at work, and according to Harry, her bathroom. (Second shelf in the cupboard, behind the box of extra toothbrushes.) Neville presented her with a bonsai tree, with instructions for care and trimming. While she examined the small branches on miniature tree, the room fell quiet when Harry approached with his gift. She heard purring from her elbow and looked. Harry cradled a calico kitten.

"I know Crookshanks can never be replaced, but…" he said softly and placed the kitten in her arms.

She couldn't help the tears that fell from her eyes and held the kitten close.

"She's a six-month-old kneazle, do you like her?" Harry asked.

"I love her already," Hermione said, and the kitten started playing with her hair.

#

Harry drank his beer and watched Hermione, knowing that he wasn't the only one appraising her. Her kitten, now named Gracie, sat on her lap while she sipped from a _Birthday Girl_ champagne flute _._ She chatted and laughed with Katie and Susan and her feet (in her worn but comfortable pygmy puff slippers) were propped up. She winked at him when she caught his eye. Music was playing from the wireless, and Neville was explaining the care and trimming of the bonzai tree to one of Hermione's colleagues from work.

Wayne sat next to him and tapped his beer bottle with his. "Great party and great move with the kitten."

"It wasn't a move. I knew she'd like it," Harry said.

"Like I said, great move," Wayne repeated.

"Am I that obvious?" Harry asked.

"There's a dozen witches here trying to get your attention, but you only have eyes for the one over there wearing those utterly fashionable pygmy puff slippers," Wayne said.

"Do you think she knows?" Harry asked.

"She may have blinders on where you're concerned for now, but sooner than later, the blinders will fall off. When they do, you'll be one lucky bloke," Wayne offered.

Late that night after the party, Hermione was asleep on the Chesterfield while Harry picked up the library after the party. Gracie was playing with one of Hermione's slippers and she shifted and burped softly in sleep. He placed a throw blanket over her, looked at her pretty sleeping face for a few minutes, and finished cleaning before turning in himself.

She woke to a soft weight on her chest and a kitten face in front of hers. Gracie nudged her nose and hopped to the floor. The sun was peeking through the drapes and Harry walked into the library with a serving tray.

"Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey," he sung.

She sat up and Harry placed the tray on the table on the table in front of the Chesterfield. He sat down next to her. She took in the fragrance of strong coffee.

"You dear, sweet man, thank you," she said and cradled the cup in her hands.

"So, what are your plans today?" he asked.

"The pet store for fuzzy bottom and pick up some stuff from the market."

"Mind if I tag along?" he asked.

"Not at all, though it might be a little boring for you," she replied.

How much of a ponce would he sound like if he said _it's never boring if I'm with you!_ Now that he had a goal, the goal of making her his witch, her plans were his plans. Aside from that, he really didn't have anything to do that day. "My planner isn't overflowing with activity."

She chuckled. "All right. Your company will be welcome as I pick out tomatoes and cold cuts."

#

As the two walked along Diagon Alley, Hermione sensed a quiet change in her relationship with Harry. The change was subtle and it had snuck up on her. Harry was behaving, in little ways, different toward her. More affectionate and attentive. She thought about her time in Grimmauld Place since she moved in and analyzed the differences.

Harry didn't have to, but he was choosing to spend time with her. Being who he was, he could have had his pick of witches. However, he was a humble sort who didn't believe in his own press, (unlike a ginger-headed wizard she wouldn't mention) and after Ginny, he didn't date much. There were only about a thousand witches who would drop everything to spend a Saturday afternoon (or night) with Harry, and here he was with her, going for kneazle food and cold cuts.

Although he didn't look bad to begin with (she always thought he was good-looking), he started wearing clothing other than denims and t-shirts. Didn't he realize he looked just fine to her? He even gave more of an effort to tame his wild hair, but his hair was just as much as part of him as his eyes or his scar. His artfully messy hair only added to his beautiful eyes, squared jaw, perfect cheekbones, and blinding smile. He was more solicitous of her feelings, much more than Ron ever was. Her teaspoon-of-feelings former fiancé (the git!) would never had gotten her a kitten! Harry liked having a tidy home, which was a refreshing change from the slovenly Ron. Harry cooked for them both, and he liked it when she tried a new dish on him. What was most telling was that he seemed to discourage her efforts to find her own flat every time he went with her to look at one.

" _This loo is awful, your knees are practically on the other wall!"_

" _This cooker is so old it's dangerous!"_

" _He calls this a studio efficiency?"_

And one that was true: _"You would have no room in here for bookshelves."_

Harry watched her smile her thanks at the counter clerk at the Magical Menagerie and pay for kneazle food and other goodies for Gracie. With a graceful wave of her wand, everything shrunk and went into her knapsack. They left the menagerie and walked toward the market. He thought about her time living at Grimmauld Place and wondered if his efforts to winning her over were working. He didn't want to be obvious and overwhelm her so soon after Ron, but he didn't want someone else to come along and get to her either. Seamus was a close call. His Irish friend was gainfully employed, not bad looking, funny, a war hero, and was reportedly a good shag – by Hermione! He would have been a perfectly suitable boyfriend for her, but thankfully it didn't work out between them.

She hadn't moved out yet, so that was a check in the _Harry_ column. He found that he wanted to spend time with her. Her humor, her compassion, her teasing, and the unending swot in her was adorable to him now. She didn't suffer fools gladly, and the way she could verbally eviscerate a fool was her crowning glory.

Did she know how heads turned whenever she walked into a room? How alluring she had become? The awkward, unsure Hermione he'd known at Hogwarts had grown into confident, graceful Hermione. Her warm, whiskey-colored eyes and bright smile were irresistible to him now. The way she slowly, unconsciously sucked her bottom lip when she was deep in thought made him wonder what that lip tasted like…

"Harry?"

He saw her waving her hand in front his face. "Wow, where did you go?"

"Just lost in a thought."

"Anything I can help with?" she asked. "Two heads better than one?"

"It's about a case," he fibbed.

She nodded and they arrived at Worsham's, Diagon Alley's version of Tesco.


	5. Chapter 5

**September 30, 2003**

Late that morning, Harry knelt beside his desk and picked up a stack of papers he had knocked off his desk. The door to his squad opened and Arthur walked in with Chief Robards. Harry met with him and extended his hand in greeting. He didn't have a problem with him; Ron was the Weasley he had issues with.

"I'm sorry to have to come here with this. Miss Granger and her partner were working an investigation this morning and there was an incident. They're at St. Mungo's," Robards explained.

"We're both listed as next of kin contacts, but you're named in her records as the one responsible for making decisions for her care if she's incapacitated," Arthur said kindly.

"I'll take you off the active schedule for the next few days," Robards said.

"Thank you, sir," Harry said and left the office with Arthur.

#

At St. Mungo's, Harry was briefed on Hermione's condition and brought into the A&E recovery ward.

"She's stable, but you might be alarmed when you see her," the healer advised.

Harry and the healer went into Hermione's room. At the sight of her, Harry stopped in his tracks and forgot how to breathe. So much of her was covered in bandages and bruise paste.

"I know how this must look, but the bandages over the worst lacerations are necessary. The bruise paste will fade. The cast on her arm will come off when she wakes and has a dose of skele-grow. We've healed the skull fracture, and the concussion will heal on its own."

Harry nodded in acknowledgement. "Thank you for taking care of her."

"It's what we do, Mr. Potter."

The healer left the room and Harry sat in a chair next to the bed. He took her uninjured hand and pressed a kiss on it. "Love, what did you get yourself into this time?"

Hours later found Harry answering posts delivered by messenger and flower deliveries from friends and well-wishers. The door opened (again) and it was Arthur accompanied by Molly. He held up a paper bag.

"We thought you might like some lunch," he said.

"Thanks, she'd fuss if I skipped lunch," Harry admitted and removed a sandwich from the bag.

"How is she?" Molly asked. She gently patted Hermione's hand and straightened the bedsheet. No one knew how much she missed Hermione, and she still blamed herself for she and Ron's split.

"She moved her feet earlier, but aside from that, nothing else. Everything just looks so painful right now; the bruises, the cuts, the broken arm. They healed the skull fracture, and the concussion is on the way to healing, so it's better that she's asleep," Harry replied.

"They told me that her partner died while they were treating him for his injuries. She's going to take it hard."

"The hit wizards are getting an idea of what happened. An abandoned building was a front for a smuggling case she and her partner have been investigating. The suspect panicked or some alarms were triggered," Arthur said.

Harry knew Arthur had more to say, but he couldn't with Molly there. The healer returned with a nurse.

"We'll be leaving, they need do their work," Arthur said and patted Harry on the back.

 **October 2, 2003**

She became aware of sound first. Harry's voice, then Katie's. She could feel that she was laying down in an unfamiliar place.

 _What is that that smell?_

 _Why can't I open my eyes?_

 _My arm hurts._

 _I have the worst headache of my life._

"She's recovering from a head injury, that's why she's still out," Harry said. "The healer did a complete workup on her this morning and said that she's healthy, which will help her recovery. When she wakes, she'll drink a dose of skele-grow for her arm. A concussion is like a bruise on the brain. It needs time."

 _I'm in hospital?_

"I thought the worst when I walked in and saw her," Katie said.

 _Why can't I move? Help!_

An alarm sounded from a panel above the bed that startled the two. A healer and a nurse came into the room. Harry and Katie stood aside, watching them work.

"Blood pressure is elevated, have the seizure potion ready," the healer stated.

The nurse nodded and turned to the table beside the bed. Hermione's feet twitched. The healer looked at Hermione's face and took her good hand.

"Hermione?"

Her eyelids fluttered and she let out a shuddering breath.

"Hermione, squeeze my hand if you can."

There was no response, and then her eyes opened and stared unfocused at the ceiling.

Her vision was floating and blurred, so she couldn't really make out what was in front of her. Something bright appeared that caused her to blink and wince, not at all helping the worst headache of her life.

"…. good, love," she heard from Harry.

She faintly heard Harry talking about _his hand_. Wondering what he was talking about, she did her best to move her hand against his. She blinked as her vision started to clear, and she did her best to take in her surroundings to get a handle on what was happening. Green-robed healer, check. Nurse scribbling notes, check. Antiseptic-floor wax-citrus smell of St. Mungo's, check. At the at the end of the bed Katie was smiling kindly at her, check. Her eyes found Harry's, and a single tear fell down his right cheek.

#

That night, Harry ate take-away and watched Gracie eat. He was tempted to stay at hospital, but the healer said that all Hermione would do was sleep and that she wouldn't be up for a lively chat. Aside from that, Katie advised him to get some of her things such as her bath soap, hairbrush, and toothbrush for when she woke.

 _You'll want to look after Gracie too_ , Katie added.

He sat at the kitchen counter and sorted through the box of Hermione's things that the hospital had released to him. Her ringing mobile under her torn and blood-dried work robe caught his attention. He flipped it open and answered.

"Hello?"

" _May I speak with Hermione Granger, please?_ " a woman requested.

"She's not available at the moment."

" _Oh dear, I hope it isn't serious. This is her mother. We received a messenger from that magical hospital_."

"I'm afraid it is serious, Mrs. Granger. We don't know when she'll be released from hospital, she's had some serious injuries."

" _What happened?_ "

"Something went wrong when she and her partner were working an investigationyesterday morning _._ "

" _We would very much like to see her. Do you think she would mind?_ "

"I can't think of anything that would make her happier. She's missed you very much."

" _Can we meet you somewhere in the morning to go to that other hospital?_ "

"That sounds great. I don't live far from the hospital. I live at 13 Grimmauld Place, on Claremont Square in Islington. When can I expect you?"

 **October 3, 2003**

Harry was looking out front window when he saw the Grangers walking along the pavement of the townhomes and pause. He chuckled when he saw them point at numbers 12 and 14, pause, and look at each other in question. He knew they were wondering why the numbering on the row of homes skipped number 13. He opened the door and waved.

"Sorry about that," he said.

"Harry Potter?" Mr. Granger asked.

"Yes, that's me."

"The last time I saw you was at the train station years ago, getting on a train with Hermione, you had a white owl," Mrs. Granger said. "You've grown into a fine looking young man."

"Um… thank you. Would you like to come in?" Harry asked.

"Yes, thank you," Mr. Granger said and the three went inside.

"Would you care for some tea or coffee?" Harry asked and led them into the library.

"Tea would be lovely," Mrs. Granger replied, and they settled on the Chesterfield.

"Coming right up," Harry said and disappeared.

A calico kitten appeared with a soft meow and jumped on the table in front of the couch. She sat and purred at the couple.

"Aren't you a sweet little thing?" Mrs. Granger cooed and petted Gracie.

Around the room, they saw pictures of Hermione with friends, her knick-knacks, her box of knitting yarn, and her CD and headphones on the table before them. Harry returned with a serving tray.

"We see that you don't live here alone," Mr. Granger noted.

Harry placed the tea service on the table before them. "No. Hermione moved in when she moved out of her flat last month. It's just until she finds her own place."

"Why did she move out of her flat?"

"She and her fiancé broke up."

"She was engaged? To whom?"

"Ron Weasley."

"That ginger boy?"

Harry nodded and took a sip of tea.

"I can tell by the look on your face that it didn't end well, I take it?"

"No, and it's better to talk to Hermione about it."

"Ah, understood."

"Now, you told us that she was injured on an investigation? What does she do?"

"She's an investigator with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

"Is her work normally this dangerous?"

Harry shook his head. "No. People in my line of work are the ones usually in the line of fire. Soon, we hope, that she'll be able to tell us what went so wrong. She doesn't know it yet, but her partner died."

#

Before Harry and the Grangers stepped through the old storefront of Purge and Dowse, Ltd., he gave them a warning.

"The hospital is just through here. You're probably going to see some odd things once we walk through," Harry advised.

The Grangers looked at each other and shrugged. They hadn't had any contact with their daughter in five years; five years without exposure to her different world. Over the years however, they had heard her talk about Merlin, unicorns, dragons, and werewolves. What a surprise to find out they were real!

"Ready?" Harry asked.

They nodded and the three stepped through the storefront.

Harry already knew where Hermione was, so he didn't need to talk to the Welcome Witch. He led the Grangers through the reception area to the lifts. They were staring at the wizard with steam coming from his ears, waiting to be seen by a healer.

Or it might have been a witch that had fern leaves in place of her ears.

Or a couple of wizards who were telling a healer that they had to keep their friend tied to the chair or he'd float to the ceiling.

Just another day at St. Mungo's.

When the lift stopped at the fourth floor, they three disembarked. Harry saw Hermione's boss sitting in a chair outside of her door. He stood when he saw Harry.

"Auror Potter," he said and shook Harry's hand.

"Chief McAllister," Harry returned. "Allow me to introduce doctors Ben and Rachel Granger, Hermione's parents."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, although I wish it was under better circumstances," McAllister said.

"Have you been in to see her this morning?" Harry asked.

McAllister shook his head. "No. The healer is doing whatever it is healers do in the morning and told me I could come in soon enough."

"Has she been told about Richard?" Harry asked.

McAllister shook his head. "It'll be better to tell her when she's stronger."

The door opened, and a nurse paused when she saw Harry. "Your young witch is doing much better today," she said with a subtle wink and continued down the corridor.

The Grangers noted the blush on Harry's cheeks before he took a breath and opened the door.

"Oh, sweetheart," Rachel whispered when she saw Hermione and Ben held her close.

After five days the cast was off her arm, but a brace was on her left wrist. She still had bandages on her forehead, neck, and arms. The multitude of bruises were visible but fading. Her eyes were closed, and her head was turned toward the wall.

"Hermione?" Harry asked.

She opened her eyes and slowly turned her head their way. She gasped, and her eyes went wide.

"Mum, dad!"

They arrived bedside and her parents took her hands. "Pumpkin, we're so sorry."

Harry thought his heart would burst at hearing her voice. Her dad had called her _pumpkin!_

"For what?" Hermione asked, her voice hoarse.

"We've refused to see you for five years, and it shouldn't have been something like this to bring us out," Ben said.

Hermione squeezed their hands. "I've never been angry with you. What matters is that you're here, now. You have nothing to be sorry for. I'm banged up, but I'm going to be all right."

The healer, who had managed to fade into the background unnoticed, spoke. "That's true enough. I'm Healer Duvale."

"Ben and Rachel Granger, pleased to meet you. Thank you for your diligent care of her," Ben said.

The door opened again, and a nurse appeared with a wheeled tray. "A potion for your headache, beef tea, and some porridge if you feel like it," the healer suggested.

"Can I sit up a bit?" she asked.

The nurse and healer adjusted the incline on the bed and Hermione settled again. Harry gave her the small cup of headache potion that she gratefully drank. Her hands were unsteady when she reached for the pot of beef tea and she let her hands fall to her lap.

"Your strength will return in time," the healer assured her with a pat on the shoulder. He left the room with the nurse.

Harry opened Hermione's knapsack and showed her the hairbrush, soap, and toothbrush. Hermione ran a hand through her hair and chuckled.

"You look fine," Harry assured her, interrupting her before she could criticize herself.

"We're here to help as well," Rachel said and poured her a cup of the warm beef tea from the pot. She put the cup in Hermione's unsteady hands and supported them with her own, much as she did when Hermione was a baby, learning to hold a cup.

Later in the morning, Healer Duvale and a therapist were evaluating Hermione's stability and mobility.

"It looks like I'll be leaving in a couple of days, it can't come soon enough," Hermione said. "No offense, healer. I'm a little stir crazy."

"None taken," he replied and left the room with the therapist, talking about Hermione's treatment.

"Harry, could you give me the paper? I want to see the puzzles," Hermione requested.

He gave her the paper and she skimmed over the first page and choking sound was heard when she saw page two.

"No, please no," she murmured.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked.

Hermione was crying, and she pointed a shaking finger at an article on page two about the Ministry's memorial service for her partner the previous day. She threw the paper down and looked at everyone with anguished eyes.

" _Why?_ " she bawled. " _Why him! He had a family!_ "

She startled them when she kicked the tray, and across the room, several flower vases shattered from wild magic.

" _I know his wife, I met his kids!_ " she wailed.

Harry, Rachel, and Ben all rushed to her side.

"Please, sweetheart, calm down," Rachel urged.

"This can't be good for you," Ben added.

Gently, Harry took her face in his hands. "Look at me, breathe, there you go."

She quieted, calmed, and closed her eyes. When she opened them, they were anguished. Harry sat on the bed at her hip and took her hands.

"I went to the memorial service; do you want to hear about it?" he asked.

Hermione wiped a tear and nodded.


	6. Chapter 6

**October 2, 2003**

After a week in hospital, the healer deemed her fit enough for discharge. The concussion and broken arm were deemed healed enough her to go home.

"I recommend another week of convalescence before resuming normal activity," the healer advised.

Rachel marveled about magical medicine while she helped Hermione pack her knapsack, and Harry talked with the healer about her discharge care plan.

"If any out of the ordinary physical symptoms occur, you are to return here for evaluation," the healer advised.

"I understand, and mum has agreed to stay with me this week to keep an eye on me," Hermione said and gave her mum a hug.

"Ben would have too, but someone has to tend the clinic," Rachel said.

"McAllister would like to talk to you this afternoon, if that's okay," Harry said and opened the door for the two.

Muggles couldn't use the floo, and the healer wanted Hermione to hold off on apparition, so they walked from St. Mungo's back to Grimmauld Place. When they were on the pavement outside of Purge and Dowse, Ltd. Hermione stopped, closed her eyes, and took in the feeling of being in the open air.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" Harry asked.

"Definitely."

At Grimmauld Place, Hermione rested in the library and cuddled with Gracie while Harry showed Rachel where Hermione's bedroom and bathroom were. Back downstairs, Harry made sure Hermione was situated before he returned to the Ministry.

"Please don't worry, I'm going to be all right," Hermione reiterated.

He kissed the top of her head and left.

"That young man loves you, you know," Rachel said.

"I know, I love him too," Hermione said and tossed a catnip ball for Gracie to chase.

Rachel chuckled. "You love your cousin Robert."

" _Mum_ ," Hermione groaned and flopped face first on a pillow.

Rachel chuckled and ran a hand through her daughter's hair. "Have you had a rough go of it?"

Hermione sat up and blew a bit of hair out of her face. "If by _it_ , you mean men and such, then yes."

"Care to share with your old mum?"

Hermione sighed and grinned at Gracie wrestling with her catnip ball.

"My engagement to Ron ended unexpectedly and badly. I've had a couple of flings since then just to see what else is out there, you know?"

Rachel nodded. She felt as if she was getting to know her daughter again, which in a way, she was. In the five years since she had seen her, she was proud to see that her daughter had grown into a confident, well-spoken, graceful beauty. She was successful, had a circle of caring friends, and was going through the same relationship travails as any young woman.

"I don't hate Ron. We were friends for too long and we've been through too much for me to hate him. Is he a git for what he did? Yes. Am I angry and hurt for what he did? Yes, but I can't hate him."

And in the manner of cats, Gracie ran from the library, chasing whatever it was that caught her attention in the corridor.

"And now we come to Harry," Hermione said and ran her hands through her hair. "I had a lot of time to think in hospital."

"And did this thinking time yield any useful conclusions?"

Hermione nodded. "You don't know how famous Harry is in the magical world. He hates it and he's not one to believe his own press. He could have his pick of witches. There's a thousand of them right now who drop everything if he asked, but he chooses to spend time with me. I'm honest enough to admit that it's flattering, but…"

"But?" Rachel pressed.

"It's Harry, my best friend since twelve. The same boy who saved me from a troll in the loo."

Rachel wasn't sure what that meant (sometimes Hermione said very odd things), but she continued. "You're adults now, with adult feelings and adult experiences. I think Harry has realized that and wants to move beyond friendship. He adores you, a blind man can see it. Are you hesitant because of Ron?"

"I hope not, because Harry _is not_ Ron. I know that," Hermione answered.

"Well, often the mind says one thing, but the heart says another," Rachel said.

"It's not a coincidence that every flat I've been looking at, Harry has insisted he come along and found something wrong with it."

"And you haven't objected very much, have you?" Rachel asked.

Hermione shook her head. "No, I've liked being here, with him. I think it would make him sad if I moved out, and I don't want him to be sad. It feels right, like I should be here. I'm happy here."

"Well then, sweet girl, I think you have your answer."

#

Late that afternoon, Harry walked arrived home at the same time Ben was standing outside Grimmauld Place. He saw Harry carrying flowers and a small box of gaily wrapped chocolates.

"You didn't have to, I'm touched," Ben teased, nodding to the gifts Harry was holding.

"If you really want these, they're yours," Harry replied and held them out to him.

"I know who they're for," Ben said and winked.

"I've been meaning to create a charm to signal inside the place whenever you or Mrs. Granger arrive, so you're not standing here on the pavement looking about," Harry said.

 _What a way to deflect an awkward conversation, I wonder if Rachel has had more luck with Hermione_ , Ben wondered.

Harry trotted up the steps and unlocked the door with murmured words of magic. Inside, Hermione and Rachel were laughing from the kitchen. The men followed the sound where they were making biscuits and singing along with a song on the wireless. Harry saw Hermione and almost dropped the bundle he was holding. Her bright eyes and smile was mesmerizing, and the bit of flour on her cheek was perfect. She smiled at him and bit into a biscuit.

"Who's strangling the cat?" Ben asked.

" _Dad,_ " Hermione complained. "I don't sing that bad!"

"Keep telling yourself that," Ben quipped and walked to his wife. She tapped her cheek and Ben gave her a kiss. He moved to Hermione and wrapped her in a hug. She gladly accepted the hug and gave him a biscuit. He took a bite and waved the biscuit at Harry.

"Harry, if you can put up with the singing, she's a keeper," Ben said.

"I know," Harry said softly, eliciting a furious blush on Hermione's cheeks.

Hermione wanted to make dinner, but everyone could see that she was tiring.

Harry chased her from the kitchen. "I'll get some spaghetti going, you just go and rest. It's time for your potion anyway, isn't it?"

"Yes, Healer Potter," Hermione grumbled.

"Cheeky," Harry returned.

Hermione stuck out her tongue before leaving the kitchen.

#

When Harry went to the library to let the three know dinner was ready, Hermione was asleep on the couch with Gracie dozing on her lap. Ben was reading the day's _Daily Prophet_ and Rachel was perusing a _Witch Weekly_.

"Fascinating, the photos move," Rachel marveled.

"Dinner's ready," Harry announced.

He leaned over the sofa and gently patted Hermione's shoulder, mindful of the healing bruises. She woke and looked up at him with sleepy eyes.

"Hungry?" he asked.

"Some."

Ben held out his hand for her. She took it and got to her feet.

#

Hermione yawned during a bite of her spaghetti and a meatball rolled off her fork and onto the table.

"That's me done. Harry, it was delicious, but I'm falling asleep in my plate."

"And you have some sauce on your nose," Harry pointed out.

Hermione rolled her eyes and wiped her nose.

"The doctor did say you might tire easily," Ben said.

Hermione and Rachel rose from the table. "I'll make sure she gets settled for the night."

She gave Ben a look and nodded toward Harry.

"Harry, know of a good local? I'd like to treat you to a pint and I could use one myself."

Harry finished chewing and shrugged. "Yeah, Benny's down the street has a good stout."

#

At _Benny's_ , Harry and Ben ordered pints of stout from the bar. Ben slid some money across the bar and they chose a table.

"Let's get down to brass tacks, shall we? Anyone can see how you're arse over tea kettle for Hermione, so when are you going to do something about it?" Ben said.

"Not shy about it, are you?" Harry mumbled.

"Nope."

Harry sighed and took a long drink before he continued. "Four months ago, Ron and Hermione broke up. It ended badly. I don't want to be an obvious idiot and overwhelm her so soon after Ron, but I don't want someone else to come along and get to her either. Is four months too soon or long enough?"

"Who knows if something like this is too soon or long enough, but she must be aware of how you feel," Ben pointed out.

"I said that I don't want to be an obvious idiot, but that doesn't mean that I haven't been one. She's the smartest person I know, so…"

"She's still around, isn't she?" Ben asked.

Harry took another long drink and burped. "That's a point, yes. However, there are about a hundred wizards where we work who would give their wand arm to be with her. I feel like I'm constantly fending off blokes I've known for years, just because they think she's pretty, and sweet, and clever."

"A problem continually plaguing men," Ben noted.

"Seeing her heartbroken and crying killed me. I hate what Ron did to her, but it opened a window of opportunity for me. I love her and I know I can make her happy. She's everything to me," Harry stated.

Ben slapped him on the back and tapped Harry's glass with his. "That's what I like to hear."

 **October 13, 2003**

Hermione stood in the foyer with her handbag, satchel, work robe, and double-checked that she had everything.

"Are you sure that you're ready to go back?" Harry asked.

She straightened the collar of his work-a-day robe, smoothed down a bit of stray hair, and patted his chest. "For the tenth time, yes, Auror Potter. I've missed my work. I enjoy my work. I need find out who killed Rick and tried to kill me."

"There's something I need to say here and now, while I've got the nerve," he said.

She lifted an eyebrow in inquiry.

"When I walked into that smelly hospital room and saw you hurt that day, I was gutted. I forgot how to breathe."

"Harry—"

He put a finger over her lips. "Now you're standing here, lively and beautiful, looking at me with those big brown eyes…"

He lowered his finger and replaced it with his lips. He felt her tense up, and then relax into the kiss and drop her belongings. He suckled on her lower lip before he took a step back. There was a pretty blush on her cheeks and she was gazing at him in surprise.

"I've wanted to do that for so long," he breathed.

She reached for him, tripped over her handbag, and fell against his chest. She smiled, pulled him closer, and returned his kiss. It was all Hermione and it was thrilling: bold, exploring, focused. It was also arousing, and an exasperated snuffle erupted from the back of his throat. He was glad he was wearing a robe to cover his strained trousers. She suckled briefly on his bottom lip before she stepped back and picked up her things. She glanced down where she felt the impressive bulge under his robe and grinned.

"Thank you," she said.

He wasn't sure what she was thanking him for. Was she thanking him for a kiss? Witches! "You're welcome?"

She giggled. He loved the sound. He couldn't remember the last time he had heard her giggle.

"Meet me for lunch?" she asked.

"For sure," he agreed.

She winked and apparated from the foyer.

#


	7. Chapter 7

When she walked into her department, she was greeted with applause for her recovery and condolences for her partner. She thanked everyone and went to her cubicle. She stared at Rick's empty cubicle next to hers, and felt her eyes sting and well with tears when she was startled by a voice behind her.

"Hermione, would you join me in my office?" Chief McAllister requested.

She grabbed a notepad and biro and followed him. Inside she took a seat and tea that was offered.

"First off, how is your recovery going? Well, I assume, or you wouldn't be here?" he inquired.

"I'm a little tired, but physically recovered," she answered. "I really just want to get back to work, to find out who's responsible for Rick's death and who tried to do me in."

"That's good to hear," he replied. "As such, I'll be working with you until I come to decision about a new partner for you."

He handed her two file folders. "Here's some new information about the case. We have a meeting with other departments this morning at nine."

She flipped through the files and looked back at him with a frown and he nodded in acknowledgement. "It's as we feared. Employees within the ministry are involved. It's why we have to be so careful not to… _show the hand we're holding_ , so to speak."

"We need to let them think they're getting away with it, to catch them unaware," Hermione said.

"We're close. I know it's cold comfort right now, but you and Rick are proof of that we're close. Aurors come in wands blazing, while we methodically probe and poke until we get our suspect. _And we will get them_ ," McAllister stated.

#

At lunchtime, Harry scanned the bustling Ministry canteen until he found Hermione sitting with Katie and Susan. He purchased a sandwich and a cola and weaved his way through the throng of diners. Hermione saw him and the smile on her face told their friends all they needed to know, prompting Katie and Susan gave each other pointed _I told you so_ looks. Hermione patted the seat next to hers. He kissed the top of her head before he sat down. She blushed and cleared her throat.

"I heard there was a big DMLE meeting this meeting this morning," Harry said.

"That I can't talk about," Hermione replied and took a bite of her curry rice.

"I reckoned as much," he replied.

Hermione's watch beeped and she looked at it. She dug through her handbag and sighed.

"I don't have the blood pressure potion in here," she murmured.

" _Hermione_ ," Harry fussed.

" _Harry_ , I'm not going to stroke out here over my rice. I haven't had a headache in five days," she assured him.

"Why do you need blood pressure potion?" Katie asked.

"I don't have high blood pressure, but the healer prescribed it to lessen the pressure in my head after the concussion," Hermione said.

"But you will go to the house and get some after lunch?" Harry suggested.

Katie and Susan looked at the interplay between the two.

"If I have time, yes," Hermione replied.

"Then make the time," Harry insisted.

Hermione took a deep breath, wiped her mouth with a napkin, and stood. "Katie, Susan, thank you for lunch. Give Wayne my best."

She took her tray and left, without a word or look at Harry.

After lunch, Harry checked in with his squad, reviewed some cases, and volunteered for courier duty to deliver needed case files around the Ministry. Coincidentally, a few were bound for Chief McAllister. In the McAllister's office, Harry witnessed him sign for the files.

"Is Investigator Granger here?" Harry asked.

McAllister shook his head. "No, but she'll be back soon. She returned home for a potion she forgot. She'll be using a pensive this afternoon, so she thought she might need it."

McAllister nodded to the door. "Ah, there she is."

Harry turned to the common area and saw a head of wavy brunette hair walking toward the department cubicles from the far door.

"Do you have anything for Chief Robards?"

"No, not at this time. Thank you."

Harry returned the greetings of DMLE caseworkers as he made his way toward Hermione's cubicle. She was reading a case file, making notes, and humming.

"Are you going to stand there or sit down?" she asked.

He sat in the other chair in her cubicle. "I'm sorry for what I said."

She put down her pencil. "I know why you said it, but the way you said it…"

She shook her head. "Ron got that way at the end. I won't tolerate it."

"I agree, you shouldn't have to. My only excuse was that I'm concerned for you."

"You're not usually like that, I know that. I just had a… _Ron flashback_ , I think."

He took her hand. "Well then, I've got some work to do."

"Work?" she asked.

"This is good work. Happy work," he replied.

"Do tell."

"You need some good flashbacks to replace the bad ones. Starting tonight. What do you say?"

"It's a date."

#

During dinner they talked about their day's work, Ministry for Magic gossip (which was always good for a laugh), the latest films that caught their interest, and visiting with her parents on Saturday. After dinner, Harry prepared a picnic basket, candles, and a blanket inside.

"I'd like to take you on a picnic, if you'd like. The east pond at Hyde Wizard's Park is nice at night," he offered.

"That sounds perfect," she said.

At Hyde Wizard's Park, Hermione looked at the other couples that dotted the landscape and took in a gently bubbling fountain, fairy lights that glittered in the moonlit water, and chirping crickets that made for a perfect accompaniment.

"This is lovely, thank you," Hermione said.

"You're welcome. Are you warm enough?"

She nodded and he opened the basket. "I figured you'd like the stuff you brought back from France."

She took a bite of cheese and a sip of champagne. "You figured correctly."

"You'll have to take me there, I want to see why you like it so much."

She shrugged. "The food, shopping, dancing…"

She thought of Phillipe and wondered if it was possible for a person to spontaneously combust from blushing so hard. _Sure, Harry, meet Phillipe. I learned how to give head on him. Oh, and I found out how I like it hard from behind!_

"Why are you blushing so much?" he asked, amused.

She patted his arm. "I know we talk about a lot, but about some things… let's just say that what happened in France will stay in France."

He chuckled. "Okay. I guess we all have our secrets."

She rolled her eyes and fed him a strawberry. "It's nothing that will come back to haunt me twenty years, and nothing that I regret. It's just very personal."

"Can I tell you something personal?" he asked.

"If you're comfortable with confiding in me, of course," she answered.

"I trust you more than anyone," he confirmed.

"It means the world to me to have your trust," she replied.

"Please don't laugh at what you're about to hear," he requested.

"Laugh at what?" she asked.

"This morning, when we kissed, I…"

"Got wood? A stiffy? Aroused? Your member was standing at attention?" she asked.

Now he was blushing and sputtering. " _Hermione._ "

She shrugged. "What? It's natural. I noticed. Or rather, I felt it. I was flattered."

She cleared her throat. "And impressed."

She was surprised when he pulled her into his lap and kissed her with much more vigor than their morning foyer kiss. She grabbed her wand, cast a notice-me-not charm, and dropped the wand. She returned the kiss and felt his erection pushing against her hip. He broke the kiss brought her hand to the bulge at his crotch.

"This is what I wanted to tell you. This is what happens just from kissing you."

She twisted in his lap and straddled his hips. "Do you hear me laughing?" she asked and ran her fingertips along the bulge.

"It's hard to believe, being here with you like this," he whispered and shuddered at her gentle touch.

She loosened the clasp on her cloak and he saw her nipples pebbled through her shirt. "It's not the cold causing this," she pointed out.

"Like you said, it's natural," he said and brought a hand up to massage her breasts, causing her to arch into his touch. Encouraged, his hands went to the first button. "May I?"

"I would be disappointed if you didn't."

"You've got a way with words, Miss Granger."

"I've been told that a time or two."

"Cheeky."

He continued and swiftly unbuttoned her shirt to reveal a black, lacy bra. He ran soft fingertips along the top and sides of her breasts.

"May I?" she asked and pulled his shirt from his trousers.

"I'll like whatever you do with those soft, clever hands," he murmured and unlatched her bra.

"Perfect," he whispered and wondering if this was a dream and if so, he hoped he wouldn't wake any time soon.

She learned with Phillipe not to be embarrassed of her body. _Why be shy of the pleasure this body can give and receive,_ he had advised.Aside from that, this was Harry, and he was enjoying what he was seeing and feeling. She ran her hands up and down his chest and stomach under his shirt, deciding what to do with him. He didn't appear to have much control this night, but he was eager and liked touching, so perhaps a hand job would do. She unbuttoned his trousers, pushed them down a bit, and reached inside his boxer shorts.

"Harry, I _am_ impressed," she whispered in his ear when she took hold of his cock.

"You are?"

He let out the breath he had been holding and bucked his hips. She kissed him and started stroking his cock.

"Sit back and relax?" she suggested.

He did so with a look of amazement at what she was doing to him.

" _Harder_ ," he groaned.

He bucked his hips in time with her strokes and let his head fall back. He gritted his teeth and grunted. " _Fuck, I'm coming!_ "

She stroked harder and massaged his balls, which caused him to shout his climax to the night and praise her efforts as his release spurted onto her hands and his trousers. She was breathing just as hard as him at this point and would probably be wearing out the batteries on her vibrator once she returned home. Seeing Harry like this and bringing him pleasure was such a turn-on.

He sat up and caught his breath, looking at her with new eyes. She took a sip of champagne and then, as if she did it all the time, tucked him back into his trousers.

"Did you enjoy doing that?" he asked.

She nodded and finished with the last button.

"You weren't shy about it," he observed, running soft fingertips around her breasts.

She shrugged. "Why would I be? You weren't shy about me touching you, so why would I be shy about touching you? I like bringing you pleasure."

"Can I return the favor?" he asked, marveled that she talked about getting him off as casually as she would read a restaurant menu.

"I'd like that," she said, glad she wore a skirt that day.

He ran his hands up her thighs and under her skirt. "There's not much to these panties."

"Is that a criticism in my choice of underthings?" she teased.

"Merely a delightful observation," he returned.

He buried his face in her breasts while his hand traveled to her quim and explored the warm, wetness there. She groaned when he crooked the finger and massaged the g-spot inside, while suckling on a breast.

" _Bloody hell, you're so sexy like this_ ," he ground out, pumping her with his fingers.

She rolled her hips in time with his hand, wanton in her pleasure, amazing him with each passing second at the Sensual Hermione he now held in his arms.

" _C-coming_ ," she gasped, clutching him close as he massaged her faster. On a lark, he gave it a few light slaps.

" _Oh-yes-more!_ " she sobbed.

Her wish was his command, so he did more, causing her contortions of pleasure and shudders of climax. She whispered his name and gave him kisses of praise.

 _If this is just from my hand, what's it going to be like when my cock is inside her?_ he wondered and shuddered in anticipation.

#


	8. Chapter 8

The morning after their night-time park interlude, Hermione followed her nose to the kitchen and was inspired when she saw Harry cooking breakfast.

 _Hmm, just how much of a morning person is he?_

"Morning love, the bacon's almost done," he said.

She stood at his back and took in the scent of him. He shuddered when her lips and nose tickled his neck. He continued (or tried) cooking the eggs, but when she untucked his shirt and ran her fingertips softly down his sides, he almost dropped the spatula.

"That bacon smells delicious," she said, her chin resting on his shoulder.

"How do you want your eggs?" he asked.

" _Hard_ over," she answered and slid her hands down the front of his trousers. He dropped the spatula and eggs were forgotten. He started to turn around, but she kept him in place. He felt his trousers fall on his hips and her talented hands were once again stroking him with purpose. _What a way to start the day_ , he mused, and rolled his hips in time with her vigorous strokes. He let his head fall back on her shoulder and felt her lips on his ear, urging him to enjoy how good her hands felt on him and how much better his cock would feel in her mouth.

" _Uuunnghhh_ ," he grunted at the imagery, and bucked his hips through his climax.

"That's what I thought," she whispered and nipped his ear.

He turned around and tucked himself back into his trousers. "You're amazing, do you know that?"

She blushed.

"Yes, you are," he affirmed with a kiss and maneuvered her to the top of the table.

"I want to make you feel as good as you make me feel," he said and ran his hands up her thighs, under her skirt. "I'm glad you're wearing a skirt."

His hands arrived at silky barely-there panties and massaged her arse. She sighed and closed her eyes. A hand moved to the front and slid the panties aside. He closed his eyes and swallowed hungrily at the warm wetness of arousal she had from getting him off.

" _My cock has made you warm and wet, hasn't it_ ," he whispered and slid a finger in.

" _Yes,_ " she murmured and sucked in her bottom lip.

He crooked his finger and tweaked her clit. She let out a shuddering breath and let her head fall back.

"Would you like me use my mouth?" he asked.

" _Yes,_ " she whispered.

"It would be my pleasure," he said, kissed her again, and lowered his head.

Her quim was trimmed, warm, and wet. He withdrew his hand and gave a slow lick. She moaned and gripped his shoulders. He licked again, and she buried both hands in his hair, urging him to do it again. He smiled and reveled in her erotic pleas and started lapping as if he was a cat lapping at a bowl of milk. He sucked on her clit, which elicited a stream of naughty words that turned him on even more. Amazingly enough he was hard again, so while he was licked and sucked on her, he unbuttoned his trousers and stroked himself. He heard her mumbling something unintelligible and looked up.

"Yeah?" he asked and gently massaging her once more.

"Do you want to shag?" she asked.

He blushed at the blunt question, but if she was offering…

"Very much," he replied.

She smiled invitingly and scooted to the edge of the table. He took hold of his cock, adjusted for the angle, and thrust inside. They both moaned at the feeling. He felt her lips on his ears.

" _I like it hard_ ," she whispered.

He grunted and thrust harder, loving the sound of his skin slapping against hers, neither really caring about things being knocked to the floor. He moved closer, gripped her arse, and brought her in with each deep, hard thrust.

" _Hard like this!_ " he called out, glad that he came earlier, so that he would last longer. She was moaned and moved with his thrusts, taking the pounding. He had never shagged this hard, and _fuck_ , it was the best he had ever had! He looked down to where his cock plunged in and out of her and he realized that he was going to come again.

" _Coming again!_ " he groaned and concentrated on his strokes.

She stiffened, shuddered, and gasped when her climax hit, and her orgasmic contractions clamped down on his cock. He bellowed his pleasure and clutched her close as his hips jerked through his own climax.

" _Fuck-perfect-uunnggh_ ," he grunted and moaned, giving a few last thrusts.

Panting and shuddering, she kissed his neck, cheek, and lips.

"That was wonderful, thank you," she said, her voice soft.

He stepped back and tucked himself back into his trousers. "I've never came twice, and I've never done it that hard. How am I going to work after that?"

They both laughed into the quiet of the kitchen.

#

Later, Hermione sat in her cubicle and pondered the current state of her life. She chose a chocolate from the jar on her desk and tapped her pencil on her desk.

Parents back in my life. Check.

Bruises, lacerations, concussion, broken arm, and fractured skull healed. Check.

Rick is dead. X.

Out of bad relationship. Check.

Haven't caught the bad guys yet. X.

In a good relationship. Check.

She smiled when she thought of Harry. His shy smile. His sweet kisses. His perpetually messy hair, especially when she ran her hands through it, but he didn't seem to mind.

 _And here I was, concerned about finding a satisfying sexual partner!_

Harry had an impressive cock and he was eager to please, evidenced by their spontaneous kitchen encounter just that morning. She giggled and popped another chocolate into her mouth.

"Hermione?"

Startled, with a mouthful of chocolate, she dropped the pencil. Clarice was at the cubicle.

"Sorry to disturb you, Chief wants to see you."

Hermione nodded and stood with a notepad.

#

Harry sat at his desk and pondered the state of his life. He had a good career and was respected for his work. He had a circle of great friends and enough money for ten lifetimes. He thought at this point he would have a family, but after the break with Ginny he found it hard to trust women enough to get involved in a relationship. Hermione was the glaring exception. He trusted her with his life. She had been there for him since the age of eleven. Even the times he was a git to her, she was loyal to him. How many times did she save his life? How many times had he heard _I love you, Harry_ over the years _._

 _And now we come to the Sexy Hermione I got to experience last night in the park, and in the kitchen this morning._

 _The Sexy Hermione who likes to shag._

 _The Sexy Hermione who likes to talk dirty._

 _The Sexy Hermione who isn't shy about what she wants. She told me she wants my cock in her mouth._

Ron was mad to leave Hermione. Why couldn't the ginger berk see that she was everything a wizard could want? A paper airplane flew into his office, hovered above his desk, and dropped. He unfolded the message.

 _Harry,_

 _We got a hot lead on the smuggling case! Five of us are heading to France this afternoon. Going home to pack._

 _Love, Hermione_

He dropped the note, grabbed his cloak, and left the office. When he arrived at Grimmauld Place, he called out Hermione's name.

" _My room_ ," he heard.

He went up upstairs and stood in her doorway. She had her mobile tucked between her ear and shoulder while tossing clothing and other belongings on her bed.

" _Mum,_ " she mouthed.

He nodded in acknowledgment and leaned against the door while she scurried around the bedroom. She took a familiar small beaded bag from the top drawer of a dresser and placed the things from her hand bag into it.

"No, I don't know how long I'll be gone," she said into the mobile. "The tip just came in. We can't pass it up."

"Okay, I love you too. I'll ring you when I get the chance."

She rolled her eyes. "Yes mum, I'm glad you made me learn French. Au revoir."

She closed the phone and grinned at him. "I already know what you're going to ask. I can't tell you much. It's sensitive information."

"Why you?"

"The mission needs French speakers, and as a bonus, it helps that I'm a muggleborn."

"You've lost me."

"All right, this part I can tell you."

She slipped off her heels and went into her closet where her muffled voice was heard from inside. "The smugglers have been working among the muggle population, both here and in France."

"And they need someone who is comfortable around muggles and can speak French," Harry concluded.

" _Exactement_ ," Hermione said and emerged from the closet, dressed in denims, jumper, and boots.

"Who else is going?"

"My boss, Bitner, Haskins, and Clarice."

"Clarice? The file clerk?"

Hermione chuckled. "Yes, she's very excited. Only five months out of Hogwarts and she gets this adventure."

She put her clothing from the bed into a duffle bag and some more things she thought that might be useful into the beaded bag. She looked at him and drew him into a hug and gentle kiss.

"Don't look so worried."

"I can't help it. You don't know how long you'll be gone?"

"No, but we have these," she said and held up her mobile. "I'll ring you as often as I can. I'll miss you."

#

At the international floo, all the departments that were working the smuggling investigation were waiting by the international floo departure point: the DMLE, the Department of International Magical Cooperation, Muggle Artifacts Division, and the Hit Wizards. Chief McAllister, Hermione, Clarice Rollins, Thomas Bitner, and Brad Haskins walked to the international floo point. This was part of the plan, for the smugglers within the Ministry to see investigators leaving- which would leave a dozen more questions in their mind. The investigation team shook hands with various members of the crowd and Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt spoke to each of them briefly. Harry stepped forward and took Hermione's hands in his.

"Please be careful," he urged. "I love you."

"As I love you," she returned.

He grinned and pulled her into a toe-curling kiss that caused the entire atrium to hoot, whistle, and catcall the couple. A camera flash was seen, and they stepped apart when they heard McAllister clearing his throat.

"Okay you two, come up for air. We have to meet with the French officials," he said in a long-suffering voice of a wizard who had raised four daughters. Katie and Susan were snickering at Hermione's blushing face when she walked away from Harry.

 **November 3, 2003**

 **Somewhere off the Norman French Coast**

Hermione and Clarice were in a cupboard, hidden by a keep-away charm, on the third-floor of a pier warehouse. Warming charms, comfortable chairs, and entertaining conversation helped pass the surveillance time. Clarice loved hearing about Hermione's years in Hogwarts and her part in the Voldemort War. Bitner and Haskins were on a boat a few miles down the shore. Her boss was brilliantly playing his part of an itinerant longshoreman on the pier below them. Part of Hermione and Clarice's job was to keep an eye on him.

"… these wizards, they've been using muggle methods of smuggling to evade detection. Boats, cars, motor bikes, post… but they forgot about one big thing: _the money_. One little mistake, like not paying attention to the galleon to pound exchange rate can do that to a smuggler," Hermione explained.

"The wizards don't have enough pounds to pay the smugglers, so the muggles are holding on the goods. I can see why we must be so careful. There's many more muggles, and they're more organized," Clarice said, flipping through a thick file.

"Precisely," Hermione said and narrowed her eyes when she looked out the window. "McAllister just gave the signal that he's coming into the warehouse. Stay here and watch for the man wearing the yellow jumper. I'll meet with the chief."

Hermione left the cupboard and Clarice kept watch. She brought the binoculars to her eyes and scanned the docks. Hermione met her boss in an abandoned loo on the first floor.

"The French ministry caught one of the smugglers this morning. After his interrogation, we learned about a meeting tonight with an English wizard and he's bringing a trunkful of money with him. I think this is the break in the case we've been hoping for. I'll have the whole team here tonight. The French will have a team here too."


	9. Chapter 9

**November 5, 2003**

Harry hadn't heard from Hermione in three days, and he was lonely and worried. He had a bowl of cereal for breakfast in the library and left for work. When he got there, it was bedlam.

"Potter," the assistant division chief called to him.

"Sir?"

"We're augmenting the DMLE today. The smuggling case was busted wide open on the third, and the arrests are being served today."

"The third? That was two days ago. Why aren't they back?" Harry asked.

The wizard shrugged. "Wrapping up the case in France, I assume. It's a big international case, these things take time. Report to the DMLE office."

He went to the DMLE office where the assistance chief was handing out arrest warrants.

"You're here to help?" he asked Harry.

Harry nodded. The wizard looked through a stack of warrants, set one aside, and gave two to Harry. "These two are in Diagon Alley. They're not hardened criminals, just minor players. Bring them to Moody Hall. That's where all the suspects are being held and processed."

"How many warrants are there?" Harry asked.

"Thirty-six."

#

Harry's first stop was a storehouse behind the second-hand robe shop. He apparated in, wand at the ready, and surprised two wizards playing cards by a window.

"Blimey, it's Harry Potter!" one of them exclaimed.

They stood and he walked toward them.

"Walter Quinley and Peter McClane?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, that's us," Peter replied.

"I have to ask you to come with me. The Ministry has warrants for your arrests," Harry stated and held up the folded parchments.

Walter scratched his head and barked out a laugh. "Blimey! Two nobodies like us get to be arrested by bloomin' 'Arry Potter!"

"Can you place your wands on the table and step away?" Harry requested.

They shrugged and did as he requested.

"I have to say, I wish all my arrests would go as smoothly as this," Harry said and bound their hands behind their back. "I'll be taking you to the Ministry, where you'll be processed and assigned a solicitor, if you choose."

"Can someone let me mum know what's going on?" Peter asked.

"That'll all be taken care of at the Ministry," Harry assured him. "Ready, gentlemen?"

He apparated from the warehouse with a pop and arrived at a common apparition point at the Ministry. He made conversation with the two suspects as they walked toward Moody Hall. Two hit wizards took custody of the suspects, thanked Harry, and whisked the two into the hall. Before the doors closed, he saw a flash of red hair.

 _No._

"Auror Potter…"

Harry opened the door and he saw Ron sitting among a row of suspects. Ron's face paled when he saw Harry. The entire hall fell silent as the two stared at each other. Harry walked toward him and the closer he got, the angrier he felt.

"N-now, Harry, I can explain—"

Harry reached him, grabbed the front of his shirt, and pulled him from the chair. Hit wizards rushed toward the two. Harry slammed him against the wall and shouted in his face, enraged.

"HER PARTNER WAS KILLED! _SHE ALMOST DIED!_ "

Three hit wizards dragged Harry away from Ron and out the door. Kingsley and Robards were waiting outside.

"You aren't the only one with emotions running high, Potter. Many family members and friends were arrested today. However, we must all maintain some semblance of order while this entire mess is sorted," Robards said.

"I'm sorry, sir. This is all just so unbelievable."

"I feel as you do, and you have a right to your feelings. I have a nephew and a friend of thirty years sitting in there," Robards said. "Let's get back to the office."

Harry went back to his office and paced back and forth, trying to comprehend what could have possessed Ron to get involved in smuggling! What was he thinking? Did he need money that badly? Or was he just stupid enough to think that he would get away with it? He plopped down in his chair and saw envelope waiting for him. The writing on the front was Hermione's! He eagerly tore open the envelope and read.

 _Harry,_

 _In case you haven't heard, the case is over!_

 _I'm sorry I haven't been able to call you, but my mobile (and me) went for an accidental swim in the waters of Le Havre on the night of the third. Don't ask, I'll tell you when I get home. After the arrests, everyone was on top-secret lock down. From what I was told, arrests in England were prepared for today._

 _Tonight, the French Ministry is holding a celebratory dinner for the English and French teams that captured the smugglers and closed the case. It's been a thorn in the sides of both Ministries and they're relieved it's over. I want to pass on the dinner, as I have someone back in England I really want to get back home to. However, McAllister has other ideas, and he is my boss._

 _I'll be home late tonight. You don't have to wait up._

 _Love,_

 _Hermione_

#

Late that night, Harry was reading a _Quidditch Monthly_ in the library when he heard a pop of apparition from the foyer. He heard Hermione's tired voice coo at Gracie and she dropped her duffle bag in the foyer. He met her at the base of the stairs and took her in his arms, rejoicing in the feel of her arms wrapped around him. He ran his hands up and down her arms and kissed both her hands.

"You look tired," he said.

"I'm exhausted," she answered.

"Then let's get you to bed," he offered.

She brushed her teeth and they cuddled in her bed. He didn't know how or when he was going to tell her about Ron, but he knew he wasn't going to do it in her bed. No unhappiness was going to find its way there. Ever. He fell asleep to the sound of her soft breathing and the feel of her hair on his chest.

 **November 6, 2003**

Hermione woke to the sound of a toilet flush and the sight of Harry returning to the bedroom, his impressive morning wood bobbing under his bed trousers. She patted the space next to her and he returned to bed.

"Morning," he mumbled sleepily and attempted to burrow his face into her breasts.

"Good morning. Hmm… before my adventure in France, do I remember something about your cock in my mouth?"

He stopped nudging her breasts and looked at her. How could any bloke forget that?

She vanished his trousers with a murmured word and stroked his cock, scooting to where she could sit between his legs. She ran her hands up his thighs, raked her nails on his hips, and started meticulously sucking the head of his cock. He gritted his teeth at her ministrations and gripped the bedsheets. Bloody hell, what a way to wake up! He moaned loudly when she slowly took his entire length into her mouth. He knew he whimpered when she sucked and licked his balls, but he didn't care how he sounded. All he knew was blinding pleasure, there in her mouth. She stroked, licked, and sucked his length at the same time, causing him to raise his hips in time with the bobbing of her head. He groaned and panted, praising her efforts.

" _C-comi_ -" he babbled. She was going to get a gallon of cum in her mouth, he was sure of it. She gripped the base of his cock, crawled up his body, and impaled herself on his cock.

" _Fuck_ ," he shuddered, breathless.

"Exactly," she murmured and kissed him.

She leaned on his chest and started rolling her hips.

" _Not going to last_ ," he choked and took hold of her hips.

" _Me neither_ ," she moaned and let her head fall back, baring all to him as she shamelessly rolled and rocked her hips. They came together in a duet of shuddering groans of ecstasy and mutual praise.

#

After a shower, they sat in the kitchen with cereal, toast, and fruit.

"I'm running late today," Harry said.

"And I have the day off," she replied and munched on a strawberry.

"Before I go, there's something you need to know. You need to hear it from me," he said.

"That sounds ominous. Well come on, spit it out," she sighed.

He sighed and scooted his chair closer to hers and took her hands. "Ron was one of the people arrested yesterday."

She shook her head in denial. He nodded. A single tear fell down her cheek. He wiped it with the pad of his thumb.

"We'll know more in the coming days. There's so many suspects to process. Thirty-six total; eighteen, in the ministry alone. No one knows of his level of involvement yet."

She nodded and took a shuddering breath. "I'm okay."

"What are you going to do today?"

"Visit mum and dad and get a new mobile."

"Speaking of that, would you mind telling me how you and your mobile went for a swim?"

"Oh, that. Well, you see, during the captures there was a duel on the pier-"

He groaned and let his forehead fall to the table with a thump.

#

At lunchtime, Hermione sat with her mother in her office at the Granger Family Dental Centre over fish and chips.

"So, aside from magical duels in France where one gets knocked off a pier, how are you? How are things with Harry?" Rachel asked and Hermione grinned.

"That good?" Rachel asked, amused.

"Very good," Hermione confirmed, took a bite of fish, and winked.

"I assume you're on a reliable method of contraception?" Rachel asked.

"Yes, it's one-hundred percent effective," Hermione said, but she knew she was blushing.

Rachel patted her hand. "I know you're a pragmatic girl, but it's easy to get carried away."

"Is it ever," Hermione mumbled.

Rachel chuckled and Hermione's mobile rang. She looked at the caller and saw that it was Harry.

"Hello?"

" _If you're with your mum, tell her I said hello."_

"Mum, Harry says hi."

Rachel nodded and waved.

"Mum says hi too."

" _I'm sorry to disturb lunch with your mum, but Molly has been admitted to St. Mungo's. Something to do with her heart."_

Rachel saw Hermione's face pale and her eyes tear.

"Okay, I'll head there now. Thank you for letting me know," Hermione said and told her mum what was happening.

She hugged her mother and gathered her things. "Give Molly my best and bring that bloke of yours for supper soon."

"I will. Love you."

Hermione dropped her things off at home (which gave her warm feeling to think of it as home) and retrieved the red knitted blanket Molly had given her when she had been in hospital. At St. Mungo's, she checked with the Welcome Witch to find out where Molly was and made her way there. The entire Weasley family was there (minus Ron), waiting outside of a room in chairs. Hermione didn't hesitate to hug the entire family, including Ginny, who she held on to a bit longer.

"How is she?" Hermione asked.

"Dad's in there," Bill said, nodding at the door. "Mum's napping; she was joking about finally getting a break."

"Was it a heart attack?"

Charlie shook his head. "No, but this mess with Ron… she had trouble breathing and her blood pressure got too high."

"Dad insisted she come her here as a precaution," Bill said.

"Can I bring this in?" Hermione asked and held up the blanket.

"She'd like that," George said.

"Come in with me?" Hermione asked Ginny.

Molly saw the door open, to reveal Hermione and Ginny. Hermione smiled and held up a familiar red knitted blanket.

"It gets a bit chilled here," Hermione said with a wink and spread the blanket on the bed. She hugged Molly and refilled her cup of water from the pitcher.

"Thank you," Molly said.

"My mum sends her best as well," Hermione said.

"You saw her today?"

"I had the day off, so I dropped into see her."

The door opened again and a large basket of flowers with legs came into the room. Harry's smiling face peeked around the side of the basket. He didn't just bring a bouquet of flowers, he brought an entire garden.

"My goodness!" Molly exclaimed.

He saw Ginny, nodded at her, and gave Hermione a kiss on the cheek. The rest of the Weasley family followed. Harry placed the humongous spray of blooms on a chair by a charmed window and wiped his hands on his trousers.

"Feeling better?" Harry asked.

"I feel fine now! But the healer says my blood pressure is running a bit high, but is that any wonder? I imagine many mothers have high blood pressure today!" Molly declared.

"Now dear, don't go getting yourself worked up again," Arthur said and patted her hand.

"You're right," Molly said.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them. She looked at Harry and Hermione. "Someday, you'll be parents."

Harry and Hermione gave each other a quick glance and blushed. George snickered.

"And you'll do the best you can when you raise them. They'll make decisions when they're grown, decisions that you know that will make their life harder. All you can do is stand back and watch them struggle with the consequences of their decisions. This is one of those times."

Molly sighed, took Arthur's hand, and then he spoke. "Ron knows right from wrong. For whatever reason, he chose to do the wrong thing. Now he has to face the consequences of his decision."

#


	10. Chapter 10

Here we are at Chapter 10! I felt the need to thank everyone for reading my humble tale. It's truly taken on a life of its own. I'm enjoying creating the story as much as you're enjoying the results… kind of like a chocolate chip cheesecake that turns out just right. I'm loving your pen names, and thanks again for your reviews: Pawsrule, Onyx Obsidian, Zetasigma, Cateagle, Northwind Tweak, Black Banshee, SereniteRose, General Mac, Marla1, red demon161, Kimbclar, NYFanFic, Gwen Polk, MindForgedMan, genndec, Lonelywicked, Havanaclub42, AzureAlquimista, hpf2114, mom2divas, belladonablush, Sobela, AmythystRoseMalfoy.

Honorable mention: my very own editor, alix33

My favorite pen name: Nerdmom1701

Now, on with the story.

#

After visiting with Molly, Hermione walked with Ginny through Diagon Alley, back to _The Daily Prophet_. Hermione waved to the clerk through the front window of Flourish and Blotts when she walked by.

"I have to admit, I'm a little surprised that you're talking to me, won't Harry be angry?" Ginny asked.

Hermione lifted an eyebrow when she spoke. "Harry knows my mind. He also knows what it's like to be without family, and that you've been alienated from yours. He's angry with Ron… enraged, actually."

"Do you think Ron was really involved in an international smuggling ring?" Ginny asked.

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know. I wasn't there when his arrest warrant was prepared, but they had to have some evidence against him to go ahead with it."

Inside _The Daily Prophet_ building, Hermione braced herself for the inevitable. She saw people looking and pointing at her, and a few more scrambled for quills and parchment.

" _Sorry_ ," Ginny mumbled, and they walked into the Quidditch offices of the paper.

A few minutes later, a reporter knocked on Ginny's office door and asked to speak with Hermione.

"If you're here to ask me about Ron Weasley, the answer is no comment," Hermione replied and twirled her wand. Ginny chuckled and straightened some papers on her desk.

The reporter cleared his throat. "It's about the investigations."

"The DMLE hasn't been cleared to discuss the matter with the general public. There are aspects of the case that remain classified, and arrests are still pending," Hermione stated.

"I understand, thank you," the reporter said and left the office.

Hermione looked through her handbag for a piece of chocolate. How had she let her stash run low?

"Would you like to come to supper tonight at my place?" Ginny asked, sounding unsure of herself.

Hermione paused digging through her handbag and smiled. "I'd like that."

"Seven, come with an appetite," Ginny said.

#

Hermione left Ginny to her work and returned to Diagon Alley, where she replenished the chocolate stash for her handbag and stopped for tea at the _Three Sisters Tea Shop_. She sipped tea and doodled on the week's arithmancy puzzle from the paper when a voice was heard from beside her. She looked up and saw Lavender Brown and smiled a greeting.

"Would you like to sit down?" Hermione asked.

"Thanks," Lavender replied and sat down.

Of all the people from Hogwarts, Lavender had changed the most since leaving the school. Since being attacked that horrible day at Hogwarts by Fenrir Greyback, she thought her life would be over. When she woke and recovered from the attack, therapy and the support of friends and family got her through the hardest times. It also helped that she didn't turn into a werewolf every month. She would forever be self-conscious from the scar on her neck, so she wore scarves and high-necked shirts. She credited Hermione with saving her life, and if she ever managed to have a baby girl of her own, she would name her Hermione.

Hermione signaled the server for another cup.

"I saw you leaving the Prophet," Lavender said and thanked the server.

"I walked Ginny back to her office," Hermione said.

"Harry doesn't mind?" Lavender asked, sensing a potential story.

Hermione waved the question away. "When it comes to Ginny, he's moved on. Aside from that there's a baby involved, and he could never hold anything against a baby."

Hermione took a sip of tea. "I'll tell you what I told Ginny. I'm my own person, and Harry knows my mind. The Weasleys are going through a hard time right now. They need all the support they can get."

"So you're… you know… _with_ Harry now?" Lavender asked.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, and I'm very happy."

"Is it odd?" Lavender asked.

Hermione chuckled. "You're not the first person to ask me that. It's not odd, not to us. It feels _right_. No one knows me better than him. Being with him is everything I've been wanting in a relationship."

"So, it's love?" Lavender asked.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, and you can quote me on that."

Lavender leaned forward and lowered her voice. " _And the sex?_ "

Hermione leaned forward to answer. " _If there was an Olympics for shagging, he'd win the gold every time. He's like a machine_."

Lavender sat back up and looked at her in shock.

Hermione wiggled her eyebrows. "But don't quote me on _that_ , it would embarrass the shite out of him."

Lavender shook her head, still shocked (or awed) by Hermione's comment. "Don't worry, I write for _Witch Weekly_ , not _PlayWitch_ … although _you_ might give it a try."

#

Hermione prepared dinner for Harry when he returned home. He saw the single place at the table and asked where hers was.

"Going to your parent's place?" he asked.

"Ginny asked me to supper, and mum invited us over this weekend," she said.

"Oh," he said and sat down.

"Are you sure that you're all right with me visiting with Ginny?" she asked.

He was going to have to get used to talking about everything, because that's how Hermione dealt with problems. That's how she dealt with life; which made her so good at her job, which had saved his life over the years, which also led to their amazing sex life. Bring issues into the open, analyze them, find a solution, and implement said solution. Problem solved, move on.

"No, it's just…" he said and took a bite of chicken. "Hey, this is good."

"You were saying?"

"You're a better person than me," he said.

"No, I'm not. You're the hero of the wizarding world, not me," she teased, affectionately. "The Weasleys are going through a hard time right now, and they need all the support they can get."

"Were you angry at Ginny when you found out what she did?" Harry asked.

"Yes. If someone hurts you, I want to hurt them, full stop… but this was _Ginny_ , so I had a hard time with what I was feeling. She paid for what she did, believe me. She lost her dream career, she lost _you_ , she's a single mother, and she's alienated from most of her family, save Bill and George. Today, she said she felt like a new person when Molly hugged her and asked her to bring Ian home on Saturday."

"I still think you're a better person than me," he said and shared a bite of chicken.

"And you're my hero," she returned.

#

Just before seven, Hermione knocked on the door of Ginny's flat. Ginny answered and took Hermione's cloak to hang on a hook by the door. She followed Ginny into the living room.

"Your flat is lovely," Hermione said, admiring the pastel and floral motif in the room.

"Thanks," Ginny said.

Babbling from a cot by the couch caught Hermione's attention. Hermione walked to it and saw the eleven-month old boy playing with a stuffed snitch and plush hippogriff. Her heart melted at the sight of the adorable auburn-haired, blue-eyed little boy. He saw Hermione, grinned, and held up the hippogriff.

"Yes, I see it," Hermione said.

Ginny picked him up from the cot. "Meet Ian Weasley."

"He's adorable," Hermione said and gently shook the small hand.

"Shall we check on supper?" Ginny asked and the three went to the kitchen.

As they ate, Hermione nodded in approval at the lamb chops. She saluted Ginny with a dinner roll. "These chops are delicious, and you have your mum's flair for bread."

Ian babbled and gnawed on a roll. He mashed his serving of vegetables on his tray and held up his pea-covered hands.

Ginny sighed. "And his spoon remains untouched," she mumbled.

"Does he know how to use it?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, but his way is fun," Ginny said.

As if to prove her point, he started to eat the mashed peas off his hand. He smacked his lips and babbled happily.

"At least he eats it," Hermione offered.

#

When Hermione arrived back home, Harry was in the living room listening to Quidditch news on the wireless and playing with Gracie. She flopped on the couch next to him.

"How was supper?" he asked.

"I had a good time and Ian was adorable," Hermione said.

"I see that he left you parting gift," Harry said and pointed out a bit of food on the sleeve of her shirt.

"A bit of accidental magic," Hermione said.

"Wow," Harry replied.

"Indeed," Hermione chuckled. "Want to go out for a drink?"

"Sure, sounds fun."

She gave him a kiss. "Let me change my shirt."

She left the living room and went upstairs. A few minutes later, she returned. Bounding into the living room in a with her hair pulled back, heels on her feet, a bright smile for him; she was pretty as a picture. They decided on _The Golden Goblet_ in Diagon Alley for the half-price Thursdays. Although Harry was one of the wealthiest wizards in England, he was humble and lived frugally, except when it came to Hermione. He would give her the world if she asked. When they walked through the door of The Golden Goblet, they were showered with butter beer, applause, and shouts of " _surprise!_ " and " _congratulations!_ " When the tumult quieted, there stood Harry and Hermione, dripping wet with butter beer. A camera flash was seen.

"Just what the bloody hell was that for?" Harry demanded.

"Ooops," a voice giggled from somewhere.

"Sorry mate, that was for someone else," someone said and handed them handkerchiefs.

Harry and Hermione looked at each other and burst out laughing. The barkeep gave Harry a handkerchief to clean his glasses. "Just so you know, drinks are on the house for you two tonight."

"Thanks."

"I like butter beer, just not wearing it," Hermione said. "I'll have a whiskey and cola, though, light on the cola," she winked.

A hand slapped Harry on the back. "Thanks for being such a sport, Potter. We thought you might start blastin' the place."

"It's butter beer, not dark magic," Harry quipped, prompting Hermione to snort.

"What's the occasion?" Harry asked.

"Some friends of ours got engaged today," he said.

"Good for them," Harry said and put his glasses back on his face.

"Despite cleaning charms, I'm still sticky," Hermione said. "And my hair is beyond help."

Harry sniffed his collar. "Eau de butter beer. Finish these drinks and go home?"

#

Hermione groaned in pleasure as Harry massaged her scalp. "You have a gift."

He leaned forward and suckled on her neck below her ear. "Mmmhmm."

They were in his bathtub, which was more than large enough for two people, enjoying a steaming hot bubble bath. She was on her second hair washing, a duty of which Harry took seriously; which of course led to the rest her body being washed thoroughly clean of butter beer as well.

"You know that shower of yours is much too small, I guess you'll have to use this bath from now on," he said matter-of-factly.

She sighed. "I guess I'll just have to find my own place with a bath this size."

His hands paused. "Do you have an appointment to see a flat ?"

Her lips twitched, and she looked over her shoulder at him. "Did you just seriously ask me that?"

He had the classic deer-in-the-headlight look. "Um… I'm not sure what to say right now."

She took hold of his cock under the water. "I'm not going anywhere, Harry. Do you hear me?"

He nodded. What else could he say? His cock was in her hand!

"I'm going to tell you what I told someone today," she said, gently stroking his cock. He sighed and pressed a kiss to her temple.

She rested her hand on his chest. "I'm with you. I feel like it's the right place, here, with you. I'm happy here, with you."

She gave him a gentle, lingering kiss. "No one knows me like you do. I'm not interested in anyone else. I'm in love with you."

He was breathless at her declaration.

"Stand up," she whispered.

He stood and she stroked his throbbing erection. "I'm in love with this too, that gives me so much pleasure."

She gave it a fingertip caress before taking it into her mouth. She methodically, leisurely licked and sucked the length of him, causing him to roll his hips in time with the bobbing of her head. Then she took hold of his hips and pulled him closer to deep-throat him, which made him sob in ecstasy, but he didn't care how he sounded. This was a fantasy come true.

" _More_ ," he gasped.

She hummed and continued. He cursed and shouted his pleasure as her mouth worked his cock to a jerking, shuddering, dizzying climax. He plopped down back into the bath, splashing water everywhere. He held her close and praised her, knowing how she liked it when he talked dirty.

"Bloody hell, how am I supposed to shag you now?" he laughed.

"We'll figure something out," she said, patting his chest.

They got out of the bath and dried off and settled in Harry's bed, which was connected to his bath. She commented on the size of his bed ( _I like big beds!_ ) and convenience of his bedroom that was connected to the bathroom. He cast a warming charm on the room and they got into bed. They lay in each other's arms and sighed.

"Marry me?" he asked.

She looked at him with wide, teary eyes and she took in a shuddering breath.

"Marry me?" he repeated.

She nodded quickly and kissed him. "I do, I really do want to, but—"

He closed his eyes. _Too soon, you big prat!_

Her voice wavered, and a tear fell down her cheek when she answered. "I always pictured my dad giving me away, a beautiful dress, my family and friends there celebrating with us, dancing…"

He kissed her and sat up. "I'm such a prat for just blurting it out like that. How do you put up with me? You deserve the wedding of your dreams, getting your dad's blessing, the whole nine yards."

"Would you really?" she asked.

"For you, anything," he replied.

She nodded. "Yes, I'll marry you."

He smiled and smothered her lips with his. He waxed poetic about how lovely her breasts were to him and demonstrated his admiration by caressing and suckling on them. He kissed his way down her stomach (making her giggle) and wasted no more time once his tongue found her clit. While his tongue worked her clit, fingers worked her quim. She writhed and moaned, rather naughtily praising his efforts. It was music to his ears.

He stroked his hard-again cock. He wouldn't be able to come again so soon, but he was hard enough, and that was enough to give his witch the shagging she wanted. He shifted to crouch between her legs, gave her one more languid lick, and plunged his cock in. She arched her back, moaned, and wrapped her legs around his hips. He cursed and shuddered at the feeling of perfection inside of her. This was where he belonged.

He leaned over her and gave her a deep thrust. "No one else."

She shook her head. "No one else."

He pumped deep and slow. "You're marrying me."

She nodded and moved with his hips.

"Do you want babies?" he asked

She nodded, blushing and breathless.

"Good." He punctuated the word with a hard thrust.

"This is how babies are made." He started pumping faster and harder. " _My cock in you, over and over, and you loving it. Say you love it!_ "

" _I love it!_ " she sobbed, digging her heels into his arse, her hips moving with his.

She was lost to him, lost to the moment, and loving it. It was during these times that she could truly let go of everything, to bare all to him. She didn't have to think about anything. Her logical mind shut down and the primal mind took over. She could just _feel_.

" _Yes, come for me!_ " he urged and focused on deep, fast thrusting. It was little more than rutting at this point, but both were loving it. He loved being able to do this for her, when she could let go of everything and not have to think about anything. To just do what felt good.

She shuddered, her back arched, her nails raked his back, and she climaxed with a shriek of ecstasy and praises of his sexual talents.

#


	11. Chapter 11

#

Hours later, she woke and looked at the clock on the bedside table that said 3:46 a.m. She felt soft fingers twirling her hair and his erection pressed against the small of her back.

"Is that your wand or are you happy to see me?" she asked sleepily.

He chuckled and pressed a soft kiss to the back of her neck. "I'm going to enjoy a long life with you, Mrs. Potter."

"Say that again," she requested.

He shifted closer and pressed his erection against her arse. "Mrs. Potter."

"I like the sound of that."

He gave her another neck kiss. "So do I. Want to go look at rings today?"

She yawned and her stomach growled. "Sure."

He chuckled.

"Well, it's 3:47 in the morning and your erection is on my bum."

"Shall I move it?"

"No, you don't have to."

He laughed. "It's never going to be boring with you."

She wiggled her bum.

"Careful, love, or you'll get some early morning action."

She shrugged.

"Well, as long as you're offering, I'm up for early morning action," he replied lightly.

"Males your age are recharged by now."

"Huh?"

"Your refractory period… when you can orgasm again."

"It's kind of comforting that you know so much about that."

"I want to be a good lover, so I learn all I can about it," she said.

"For which I'm eternally grateful."

He took himself in hand and started stroking, dead curious about something. "Love, can I…?"

She looked over her shoulder lifted an eyebrow.

"Have you ever had it in the arse?" he asked.

She grinned and nodded.

"Can I?"

Her lips twitched and she cleared her throat. He looked so hopeful, so earnest.

"The lube is the top drawer next to my bed," she said.

He wasted no time and flew from the room. Less than thirty seconds later he returned to the bed, reading the label of EZ-Slide Erotic Enjoyment.

"Apply it liberally to yourself, then some to me," she said and tucked a pillow under her hips, so that her arse would be more accessible to him.

He squirted some on his palm and spread it on his cock, and looked at her arse in anticipation.

"Just spread some around in and around the rim," she instructed.

He put some on his fingers and took a breath. He leaned over, spread her cheeks, and let out a breath when he slipped a lubed finger inside. She groaned and shifted her hips.

"All right?" he asked.

She nodded. He knelt behind her, kissed her cheeks, and guided the head of his cock to the hole. He nudged inside and her arsehole sucked the head of his cock inside!

" _Shit!_ " he hissed. " _So bloody tight!_ "

He panted and moaned the further he pushed. She looked over her shoulder at the look of utter ecstasy on his face. She groaned and pushed back against him, taking him further in.

" _Yes_ ," she sobbed and started moving on him.

He looked down to where his cock was in her arse, to where she was moving on him! She rose up on her hands, which finally took him all the way in. He marveled at the feeling when he looked down and saw that he was in to the hilt. He took hold of her shoulders, back and forth he moved, steady pumping- tight, so tight- losing himself to the overwhelming sensation. It was a place he never thought he'd be, another fantasy come to life because of her. She started moving faster, prompting him to pump faster.

" _Move on me, you beautiful witch!_ " he whispered in her ear. He was going to explode another bucket of cum, he was sure of it, like her blow job from the bath. He grunted, jerked, and groaned when he came, his hips slapping against her arse. She called his name through her climax, moving with him, babbling erotic nonsense. They fell to the bed, shuddering.

"I never want to leave this bed," he mumbled.

She kissed his shoulder and sighed. "I know how you feel."

 **November 7, 2003, Diagon Alley, lunchtime**

At _Brannon's Fine Jeweler's, Est. 1832_ , Hermione glanced at the salesman who was surreptitiously looking at the couple while jotting on a piece of parchment. Hermione elbowed Harry, whose attention was on the wedding bands.

"Love, the salesman is dead curious," she murmured.

"Hmm?" Harry asked, bent over a display case.

"We're trying to be discreet, aren't we? I don't want a media circus," she said.

He stood and scratched his head. "It's going to be unavoidable. See anything you like?"

She shook her head. "Not really."

She saw the salesman's shoulder's slump.

"But I did like that ruby pendant," she suggested.

The salesman looked hopeful again.

#

Wearing a new ruby pendant on delicate gold chain, Hermione sat at her desk and read a case file; specifically, Ron's case file. No, he wasn't a smuggler, he was just willfully ignorant; which was glaringly evident based on Ron's veritaserum-fueled statement.

Apparently, the new witch in Ron's life had had used her feminine wiles on him back in July to convince him to hold on to a box for her, as a favor for her "brother." As it turned out, the storage room of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes workshop was the perfect place. No one would notice the non-descript box in the bustling storage room, it would only be for one night, and her brother would even pay him for his trouble. He did this once in July and twice in August. Ron never met the brother and never touched the box. The witch placed and moved the box, and Ron never knew what was in the box. All he knew was the twenty galleons he received after each pick-up, and the shags. Of course he felt guilty, he was engaged to Hermione after all, and he really loved her. If Hermione ever found out he shagged another witch, he would tell her that the other witch meant nothing. He reckoned Hermione would be forgiving, because she was forgiving that way, and who else could she ever love? Who else would love her?

Hermione dropped Ron's statement like it held an infectious disease and slid it away. Yes, he was willfully ignorant, not necessarily a hardened criminal. She sighed and took the next file from the stack.

#

Late that afternoon, Harry stopped just inside of the door of Hermione's department as Chief McAllister was gathering the staff together for an announcement. He held his hands up to get their attention.

"Before we all disappear for the weekend, would Hermione, Clarice, Tommy, and Brad please come up here?"

The four made their way through the crowd and stood beside their chief.

"This has been a week to remember, hasn't it! Through diligent casework, we helped to break an international smuggling ring!"

There crowd clapped.

"We need to remember those who died in the line of duty."

There was a moment of silence and Hermione quickly wiped a tear that fell, and Brad patted her shoulder.

"Next week, these four will receive commendations from the Minister for their efforts, but I want to recognize them here, just among us."

The department clapped and cheered for them.

"One more thing before we go and enjoy our well-deserved weekend, so bear with me."

He turned to Clarice and spoke to the room. "Clarice, whom I offered the choice to go on the France mission, because she could speak French. A file clerk, a mere five months out of Hogwarts, just starting out. We've all been there, haven't we?"

Everyone nodded in agreement.

"She didn't have to go, I would have understood if she declined, but she jumped at the chance. In fact, she exceeded all expectations and is useful to have around in a duel… except that she needs to learn how to swim."

Hermione nudged her and laughed, and Clarice agreed. When Hermione and Clarice were knocked off the pier in La Havre, Hermione had to perform an impromptu water rescue for the struggling, panicked young witch.

"So, starting on Monday, Miss Robbins will no longer be a file clerk. She will be starting training as a case worker! Congratulations, young lady. Everyone, enjoy your weekend!"

McAllister shook her hand and the department clapped at its loudest.

#

That evening, Hermione and Harry enjoyed dessert at a steakhouse in muggle London.

"Please don't stress about rings. We only looked at one shop and it was during lunch," he said and fed her bite of cheesecake.

"My parents are expecting us for dinner tomorrow night," Hermione said.

He nodded. "And I'll ask for your dad's blessing while we're there," he assured her.

"Nervous?" she asked.

"Why would I be? Are you going to change your mind?" he asked.

She shook her head.

"Is your dad going to throw me out or challenge me to a duel?" he asked.

Hermione snorted at the absurd image in her head. "Of course not"

He laughed. "Then no, I'm not nervous."

"So, what else do you want to do tonight?" she asked.

"We're not far from Westfield, we can stroll through before everything closes," he said.

"And we have all day tomorrow," she replied.

 **November 8, 2003**

Harry and Hermione spent the next morning strolling around Mayfair, browsing a dozen jewelry shops. Hermione couldn't believe that out all the beautiful rings she looked at, not one of them caught her eye. Harry wasn't concerned. At lunchtime, they left the shopping center to try a café by Grosvenor Square.

"Where next?" he asked.

"Covent Garden?" she suggested.

A server arrived, presented the lunch specials, and took their orders.

"I know it's early, but do you have a wedding date in mind?" he asked.

"Actually, I do," she said, and removed a planner from her handbag. She flipped through to June and tapped a day.

"June 20th, on the solstice," she said. "I have almost five weeks of holiday time on the books, so that's more than enough time to go away on honeymoon."

She saw him nodding and sipping his tea. "I mean, that's just one day, for example. June might seem like a long time to wait for no reason."

She sipped from her cola and continued. "Another part of me wants to just grab you and go to the register office on Monday morning. It's thrilling to think of us starting our lives together next week, don't you think?"

He gave her a gentle smile. "While that sounds thrilling, I know you want a wedding. I can just see you and your mum planning. You'd have Katie and Susan in on it too, right? You'll be wearing a beautiful wedding dress, with your dad giving you away. All of our friends will be there, celebrating with us," he said.

He spun the planner so they both could see it and flipped back and forth. "Hmm… Monday is too soon for a full-on wedding… June is far off… so… how about Saturday March twentieth?" he asked and tapped a day on the planner.

In Covent Garden, Hermione couldn't help but buy some things in the quirky shops while browsing jewelry stores. She munched on some candy floss and got caught up in a street musician trio featuring a man on a unicycle that juggled bowling pins. She went to nudge Harry with her elbow and felt that he wasn't there. She looked to her left, then right, behind her, but he wasn't there. Where did he go? She felt her mobile vibrate and shifted her shopping bags to get to her handbag. When she took out her mobile, she read the message from Harry.

 _Wait for me in the food court by the sushi place. Be there soon. H._

While she looked through her basket of assorted bath salts, Harry returned and sat next to her with a smile and slid a box of chocolate across the table.

"Do you trust me?" he asked.

She glanced at the chocolates. "Abut chocolates?"

He laughed and gave her a quick kiss. "I also found your ring."

She set the bath salts aside. "You did? Well then, let's see it!"

"Do you trust me?" he repeated.

"Of course," she said, intrigued.

He scooted closer to her and drew her close. "Then you'll see it tonight when I get your dad's blessing," he murmured and kissed her.

A little girl giggled when she walked by the two of them.

"I'm going to love it, aren't I?" she asked.

He nodded. "I knew it as soon as I saw it."

She made a show of looking and digging around in all his pockets and the bags he carried.

"I'm a wizard you know, I can hide things," he teased.

She giggled and opened the chocolates he bought.


	12. Chapter 12

That evening, the Grangers heard knocking from the back door and Hermione's voice.

"Mum, dad?"

"In the living room," Rachel called out.

Ben met them in kitchen, hugged Hermione, and shook Harry's hand.

"Is that lasagna I smell?" Hermione asked.

Rachel came into the kitchen. "Indeed it is, how are you sweetheart? And you Harry?"

"We're doing well," Hermione said and gave her mum a basket of assorted bath soaps.

Rachel glanced at the cooker. "There's a few minutes until the lasagna is done. How about something to drink?"

Ben poured everyone a glass of wine and they went to the living room.

"Like the new drapes?" Rachel asked.

"They're very nice," Hermione said, and the left side of the curtain rod fell from the wall. They watched the rod swing from the right side still attached to the wall.

"Damn, that's the third time today," Ben said and opened a tool box beside his easy chair.

"I can apply a sticking charm," Harry offered.

Ben raised an eyebrow in interest. "How long would it last?"

"Until I cancel it."

"It would be just until I can patch the wall to properly hold the screws."

Harry nodded and began.

#

After dinner, they settled in the living room and talked about their week.

"Something else came up too, more important than anything else," Harry said.

"Oh?" Rachel asked.

Harry took a deep breath. "Ben, this may sound old-fashioned, but I'd like your blessing for Hermione's hand in marriage."

The Grangers blinked and looked to Hermione, who had eyes only for Harry. He removed a sheath of papers from his jacket pocket and held them out to Ben.

"I want to do this right, so here's the holdings of my estate for you to see, to show that I can provide for your daughter. It's my salary, what I have in my bank vaults, investments, and properties."

Ben nodded and took the papers, and they looked at Hermione. "Pumpkin, what do you want?"

"I love him, I want to give him a family," Hermione said and took Harry's hand. "Our family, then we'll add our own little ones."

Harry took a ring box from his pocket and knelt in front of Hermione. He opened the ring box and a single tear fell down her cheek. He was right that she would love it. It was an elegant gold ring that gradually twisted toward a prong-set, radiant cut diamond. On either side of the band, vines were carved toward the prong.

"It reminded me of your wand. What do you think?" he asked.

She nodded. "I love it."

When he slid the ring on her finger, they sealed the deal with a kiss. She heard her mum sniff and her dad clear his throat.

"Can we see the ring?" Rachel asked.

Hermione smiled and crossed the room for her parents to see the ring.

"It's beautiful," Rachel gushed.

"Blimey, with the size of that rock, how do you hold your hand up?" Ben teased and pulled her into a hug. "Congratulations, sweetheart."

Later, Rachel and Hermione excitedly talked over their planners about dates, dresses, venues, and cakes. Ben was quizzing Harry about his investments and properties, and he told Ben about the estate in Wales.

"I've only been there twice. It's a Tudor manor house, on what used to be a dairy farm," Harry explained.

"It's a country home?" Ben asked.

Harry nodded and scooted closer to talk quietly to him. "I know she'd love it there; she talks about getting out of London all of the time. House elves maintain the place, which is why I'm hesitant to bring her out there."

"Take her anyway," Ben shrugged.

"How about you and Rachel come along too? Spend a weekend in the country?" Harry asked.

"Sounds like a plan. Now, about these figures… how much is this in pounds?" Ben asked, tapping the bank statement.

"Oh… do you have a calculator around?" Harry asked.

#

Back at Grimmauld Place, the newly engaged couple sat in front of a fire and she admired her ring.

"It really is beautiful," she said.

"Earlier, when you said that you wanted to give me a family," he said, his voice wavering, "I fell in love with you all over again."

She ran her hands through his hair, pulled him close, and gave him a lingering kiss. "You're easy to love. Mum agrees."

Harry chuckled. "You should have seen you dad's face when he saw the bank figures."

"What dad doesn't want his daughter to have everything?" she replied. "Speaking of which, why were you and dad talking about Wales?"

"About a home I have there."

"How many properties do you have?"

"Four, between the ones dad and Sirius left me. I'd like to show you the home in Wales, but…"

"But?"

"But house elves maintain it, because it's a large home. If they didn't-"

"The home would fall into ruin," she finished. "I learned a lot about house elves from Winky, Dobby, and Kreacher. Elves like Dobby are an anomaly, but they thrive and they're happiest when they're with a family. I just believe they need kindness and compassion as well."

"And that's why I love you so much. Having you here, I feel like I'm sort of… getting to know you better?" he asked. "I mean, you're the same Hermione, but…"

She shrugged, chuckled, and ran a hand up his chest. "I feel the same. However, if I had known how fantastic you were in bed, I would have made a move years ago…"

 **November 10, 2003**

Harry took the morning post from an owl and settled down to breakfast. He opened the paper, read it for a minute, and tossed it aside.

"The Prophet is the absolute worst," he stated, disgusted.

"What now?" Hermione asked and picked up the paper.

She read the front page and tossed it aside much like he did. For the Monday morning edition, The Daily Prophet ran a story about the smuggling ring arrests. How they got the information, she didn't know. As far as she knew, it was still classified within the DMLE. Worse, the paper decided to write tabloid-like articles of some of the more notable suspects, to include Ron, Chief Robard's nephew, and two prominent business owners.

She massaged her temples. "It's going to be chaos at work today. Again."

He took a sip of tea and shrugged. "At least it won't be boring," he said philosophically.

She rolled her eyes. "We can't have that, can we."

At work, Hermione walked into predictable chaos. Her boss was in a closed-door meeting, waving the morning's Daily Prophet, consulting with other department heads about the case information leaks. The assistant chief left McAllister's office when he saw Hermione and went to her desk.

"You, Clarice, Thomas, and Brad are to meet with the Ministry magistrates to get ready for the first of the trials," he said.

"They're moving quick with this, chief," Thomas said.

"After what the Prophet pulled, yes," he replied and gave them each a stack of file folders.

He saw their faces and chuckled. "Don't worry, most of that is legal tosh. The prosecutors will have a condensed version for each of you. They have dozens of people to try," he assured them.

#

Hermione had to get out of the Ministry at lunch. She sent Harry a message and made to go to _Carver's_ for lunch, but she glanced in the front window of the _Three Sisters Cafe_ as she walked by and saw Lavender and Ginny having tea. She walked in caught Lavender's eye. The perky blonde waved at her and got the server's attention.

"Another cup, please?"

"Busy day at the Ministry?" Lavender asked lightly when Hermione sat down heavily.

"You have no idea," Hermione mumbled and thanked the server when she brought another tea cup to the table. When Hermione brought the cup her lips, Lavender spoke.

"Hermione, the ring on your finger-"

The café's door opened, and Harry walked in. He saw the three and stopped at their table.

"Ladies."

He looked at Hermione. "Lunch here then?"

She scooted over on her bench to make room for Harry. Lavender signaled the server again.

"You had to get out the ministry too?" Harry asked Hermione.

"Ginny quit the Prophet this morning," Lavender said.

"What are you going to do? You have a-" Hermione started.

Ginny held up a hand. "Ron's being a tosser right now, but look at what some bigger tosser wrote. He called my entire family into question with that rubbish. I couldn't in good conscience stay on there."

"I can respect that, but you have a son to think about," Harry said.

"I receive child support, I have some savings, and Bill and George will help me out until I find another job," Ginny said.

Hermione saw Lavender's copy of Witch Weekly on the table and sat up straight.

"What's going on in that pretty head of yours?" Harry asked.

Hermione snatched the Witch Weekly from the table and gently shooed Harry from the booth. They talked quietly for a minute and Harry laughed at the end of their discussion, and they returned to the table.

"Have fun love," he said and kissed the top of Hermione's head. He left enough galleons for all their tea and lunch, a generous tip, and left the café.

"What was that all about?" Ginny asked.

"Lavender, is Witch Weekly hiring?" Hermione asked.

"Last I heard, they might have an opening in the lifestyle section, why?" Lavender replied.

"You know that I don't use my _celebrity_ ," she said, emphasizing the word like it was contagion to be avoided at all costs, "but today I will. And as Harry said, I'll have fun doing it, to stick it to the Prophet."

She held up her hand with her engagement ring. "Lavender, do you think you can get me in to see your boss? With some exclusive news about my engagement to Harry Potter?"

#

Ten minutes later, Hermione, Lavender, and Ginny sat in front of the desk of the chief editor for Witch Weekly, Belinda Browning. Hermione extended her hand over Bethany's desk.

"Mrs. Browning, thank you for seeing me. I read your magazine and I know you're busy, so I won't take up too much of your time."

Bethany nodded.

"Over the weekend, I was engaged to Harry Potter, and I'm willing to give Witch Weekly exclusive rights to a story about our engagement… as well as one of the two press invitations to our wedding."

"Who's getting the other?" Lavender asked.

"The Quibbler," Hermione answered.

Bethany could already see a record setting run for the magazine with a top-shelf human interest story, but she took a breath to calm herself to finish the discussion.

"Miss Granger, I thank you for being a reader of our magazine, but your disdain of the press is well known. Why would you give us exclusive rights to a story such as this?"

Hermione nodded and steepled her fingers. "A fair question. My friend here, Miss Weasley, resigned her position at the Daily Prophet this morning. She's looking for another position. Are you hiring?"

Bethany immediately understood and looked at Lavender. "Miss Brown, could you take Miss Weasley over to magical resources and get her started? Tell them it's on my say-so for the vacancy in the lifestyles section."

Bethany, amused, looked back at a surprised Ginny. "I assume you accept, Miss Weasley?"

"Y-Yes, thank you."

"We'll talk later this afternoon, Miss Weasley. Welcome to Witch Weekly."

When Lavender and Ginny left, Bethany raised an eyebrow. "So that's it? Hire your friend in exchange for exclusive story rights?"

Hermione spread her hands. "That's it. Like I said, I like Witch Weekly, but I don't like the Daily Prophet."

"I see. And what does Mr. Potter think of all this?" Bethany asked.

"He doesn't like the Prophet either," Hermione replied.

Bethany opened her planner and started scribbling. "If you're willing to go through such lengths for your friends, I can see why Voldemort didn't stand a chance. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Granger."

#

That night over dinner, Harry was entertained by Hermione's story. "You should have seen their faces! I'll have to apologize to Lavender, I think I embarrassed her. Or shocked her."

He patted her hand. "I know that you think we're famous for the wrong reasons, but it can be used for good sometimes. Like today, it got Ginny a job and we can stick it to the Prophet."

"Are you sure you don't mind being interviewed?" she asked.

He shrugged. "I trust you with this."

"Mrs. Browning kind of reminds me of mum, actually. She'll have the writer meet us at a time and place of our choosing for an interview, and we get to see the article before it goes into print," she said.

"That's refreshing," Harry quipped.

"She doesn't want to ruin the chances of getting the cover the wedding," she said.

"We're most comfortable here, so let's have this writer here for tea and crumpets," Harry said.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

 **November 12, 2003**

 **Moody Hall, Ministry for Magic**

Hermione, Harry, and the Grangers sat at a table with Clarice Rollins and Thomas Bitner. They had been presented with their commendations for service and Kingsley had given a speech. Hermione lifted her champagne flute to her lips and caught Draco Malfoy's eye across the room. When he made a quick gesture for her to join him, she raised an eyebrow and set the flute down.

"Excuse me, someone wants to speak with me."

Draco saw Hermione leave her table and make her way across the hall toward him. He straightened his tie and stood. She greeted the table occupants and faced him.

"Good evening, Hermione. Congratulations."

"Thanks."

"Do you know if Miss Rollins is seeing anyone?" he asked and glanced at the young witch in question.

"Not that I know of."

"I was wondering if you would introduce me to her," he requested.

She smiled at him. "You like Clarice? Good, she's really sweet."

She nodded toward her table and looped her arm with his.

" _Match maker, match maker, make me a match_ ," she softly sang and winked at him. The table occupants chuckled as they walked back toward her table and one of them spoke.

"Did you see that ring?" one of the witches asked.

"My niece reports that there's been a small war at her office over who gets to cover her wedding," another said, "but Miss Brown has the closest connection to Miss Granger."

"It's going to be _the_ social event of the year, of course people want to be there. It looks as if your son has a connection to Miss Granger. Has he secured an invitation?"

"I have no idea," Narcissa replied and glanced across the room.

She saw Hermione deposit her son into the company of a young, pretty witch at their table. She returned to her chair to chat with an older woman, who by the looks of her, had to be her mother. _However, speaking to Miss Granger's mother might yield some information about the nuptials!_

She rose from the table. "Excuse me."

She approached Hermione's table where Draco was still talking to the young witch, and Harry was talking to Ben. The men at the table stood when Narcissa stopped at their table. She extended her hand to Rachel.

"I wanted to introduce myself, Narcissa Malfoy."

"Rachel Granger, and this is my husband, Ben."

Ben gestured to his chair. "Would you care to sit?"

"Why yes, thank you."

When Narcissa was seated, Ben sat in the empty chair on the other side of his wife.

"You must be so proud of your daughter," Narcissa said.

"We certainly are," Ben answered.

"Is that your son next to the dracaena plant?" Rachel asked, nodding to where Draco and Clarice were engaged in conversation next to a tall potted plant.

"It is," Narcissa said.

"I understand that Hermione worked with your son's department on the smuggling case," Rachel said.

"Yes, _and_ he's been pestering me for an invite to the wedding," Hermione dryly commented.

"Has he?" Narcissa asked. She hoped not, she had raised him with better manners.

"I'm teasing. Yes, he's getting an invite, and you are too," Hermione said.

"Of course she is, she saved my life, it's a debt that I can never repay," Harry added.

Narcissa was a bit surprised at his statement. She had no idea that she had been held in such high regard by him.

"We're almost finished with the invitation list," Harry said, joining the conversation. "It's at a mere 73. I wasn't aware that we knew that many people!"

"We think we've found the invite style we like, but there's a stationer in Oxford that sent me a letter informing me that I _must_ see her selection," Hermione added.

"We have an appointment Saturday at… what the name of that shop?" Rachel asked Hermione.

"Madame Malkins, she wants to introduce me to her French apprentice who has a fantastique design that I simply _must_ see," Hermione stated, mimicking the witch who owned shop.

"It's funny, we really haven't had to go searching for wedding services. People are sending us brochures and samples all the time," Harry added.

"The both of you are celebrities and admired in our world. People want to be a part of it, and the boon for a business that services the wedding of the year is immeasurable," Narcissa said.

#

On Friday, November 14, 2003 a special-edition _Witch Weekly_ was published and as Bethany Browntree predicted, it was a record setting run. It sold out everywhere. The last time that happened was when the magazine ran their Order of Merlin edition back in 1998. Everyone who worked on the engagement story got a bonus and a personal note of thanks from Hermione and Harry for a job well-done. Lavender, who wrote the story, received the biggest bonus and was awarded a week's holiday.

Also that morning, the Chief Editor of the _Daily Prophet_ held up a copy of _Witch Weekly_ to his staff, deeply disappointed. He dropped it on the table, and the faces of the smiling couple on the cover seemed to mock him.

"How could this have happened? Our publisher wants answers."

The room was silent. He pointed to four reporters, who wrote features for the front-page news and Society sections. "Get me something, _anything_ , from the happy couple. We can't be scooped by Witch Weekly," he stated and then looked at the Quidditch department editor. "Doesn't Weasley know them?"

"Yes boss, but she resigned on Monday."

" _What?_ Let me get this straight; we lost our Quidditch columnist who actually played professional Quidditch _and_ our connection to Potter and Granger?"

He shrugged. "When the articles about the smuggling arrests came out, she resigned."

"Can we get her back?"

"Probably not." He flipped the _Witch Weekly_ to the Lifestyle section, tapped on it, and turned it to where the chief could see it.

Your Baby's First Magic

by

Ginny Weasley

Exploding milk bottles, books flying off shelves, spooking the family pet- these can

all be examples of your baby's first display of accidental magic. What do you do? Some of us consult a healer, others rely on the wisdom of experienced mothers….

#

At work, Hermione and Harry received heartfelt congratulations on their engagement. Clarice even asked Hermione to sign her magazine.

"These are great pictures of the two of you, they're as people know you," she said.

"Thanks, that's what Lavender was going for," Hermione said.

Clarice returned to her work and Hermione flipped through the article. She smiled at the photos that accompanied Lavender's article titled, " **Destiny: Harry and Hermione's Story.** " Photos of she and Harry on the couch with Gracie, she and Harry laughing at something, a photo of Hermione's ring, a slice-of-life scene of she and Harry in the kitchen preparing food, and a photo of them with glasses of wine. She rolled her eyes at their official Ministry photos of them in their dress robes, complete with their Orders of Merlin. Hermione's favorite, which composed the back cover spread, showed Hermione leaning into Harry and both their eyes were closed. His lips were pressed against her forehead, while her hands were buried in his hair. Lavender said the subtle sensuality from the two would be irresistible, because it was a side of them people didn't ordinarily see.

Hermione and Harry got busy finalizing their invitation list and continuing wedding plans in earnest. Hermione had the help of her mum and her bridal party of Katie, Susan, and Clarice, who were thrilled to be included.

 **November 15, 2003**

In the morning, Hermione and Harry apparated the Grangers to the manor house in Wales. They arrived in the living room that was three times the size of the living room at Grimmauld Place.

"That's the largest fireplace I've ever seen," Ben commented.

Two house elves appeared at the door way. Hermione smiled and walked toward them with her hand extended.

"Good morning, I'm Hermione."

"We is knowing who miss is," one of them said.

The other nodded. "Miss is kind to elves, but we is not wanting clotheses."

"I understand," she said, and they shook her hand.

"I is Bree."

"I is Joffy."

"Fine names," Hermione said, "and these are my parents, Ben and Rachel Granger."

The elves nodded in acknowledgment.

"Come on, I'll show you upstairs," Harry said.

When everyone had their bedrooms situated, they all went outside.

"Your parents lived in Godric's Hollow when they had this?" Hermione asked, looking at acres upon acres of fields, gently rolling hills, ponds, and groves of trees.

"I take it that you like it?" Harry asked.

"It's straight out of a storybook," Rachel said.

"What're those poles there?" Ben asked, pointing an area in the distance.

"That's the Quidditch pitch," Harry replied.

" _Of course it is_ ," Hermione mumbled.

"Are there fish in the ponds?" Ben asked.

"I think that larger pond to the east is stocked," Harry said. "We can check it out if you'd like."

Later, when Hermione and her mother had wedding dress catalogues spread out over the dining room table, Harry and Ben returned, talking and laughing. Harry got a bottle of ale for the both of them from the kitchen.

"Well, we know there's fish in the pond," Harry said.

"He waved his wand and more fish than I can count came flying at us from the water!" Ben exclaimed.

Hermione snickered and took a sip of her drink.

"I wasn't paying attention," Harry admitted.

"He blocked all the fish from hitting us and then returned the flopping things back to the water," Ben said.

"All's well that ends well," Rachel said.

"Want to go look at the quidditch pitch?" Harry asked Hermione.

With a _no thank you_ on the tip of her tongue, she saw the earnest look on his face and relented. Ben and Rachel settled in the living room in front of a fire, watching the telly.

On the porch off the dining room, Harry and Hermione went to an impressive (according to Harry) broom cupboard where a dozen different brooms were hanging.

"Hmm… they're all Comets," Harry noted. "Older models, but still good."

He chose one for her, did a quick cleaning, and reinforced the various charms on the broom. He did the same for the broom he chose and they took off together toward the pitch. He observed her flying smoothly beside him.

"Thank you for flying with me," he said.

"We're gliding at five feet above the ground. Does it count as flying?" Hermione asked.

He shrugged. "You're on a broom, in motion, and you haven't fallen off. That's good enough for me."

"Fallen off? I'm not that bad!" she protested and took off faster to quaffle-goal level to show him that she was perfectly capable of flying on a broom.

"Hermione, wait!" he called out. He had never seen her fly that high and that fast! She could hurt herself! He caught up to her when she arrived at the pitch.

"What was that for? You could have hurt yourself!" he demanded.

She glided to the ground and slid off her broom. "I may not fly like a quidditch player or out-fly a dragon like you, but I am competent on a broom, thank you very much. Flying drills are a part of training at work," she said indignantly.

He dropped his broom, marched to her, and kissed her for all he was worth.

When they returned to the house, Rachel was in the kitchen discussing dinner with Bree and Joffy.

"Bree and Joffy are pleased to prepare soup, pheasant, roasted vegetables, with a lemon tart for afters," Rachel said.

"That sounds great," Harry said.

"It is being good thing to have people here," Bree said.

"It is, this is a lovely home," Rachel said.

#

When the Grangers retired to bed, Hermione and Harry cuddled on the living room couch. In front of a fire, they enjoyed glasses of wine and talked about the future.

"So, do you like it here?" Harry asked.

"Yes, it's lovely. It'll be perfect for weekend getaways," Hermione replied.

"But not to live here?" he asked.

She sighed and shrugged. "Now that I'm reconciled with my parents, the city doesn't seem as bad."

"I can understand that," he said.

She leaned forward and picked up a piece of paper. He groaned and let his head fall back. "I think I'm done looking at that. There's 82 people on that list, love. Some of them are people we don't even know, but it would be rude to leave them out, or so I've been told. How can we be rude to people we don't even know?"

"I don't know," Hermione said.

"And that stationer in Oxford will address all the envelopes?" Harry asked.

She took a sip of wine and nodded.

"That's good," he said.

"And she has the _perfect_ ivory," she added, mimicking the stationer.

Harry nodded, not wanting to get into another discussion about the color white. Hermione had good judgment, so he left those details to her. Cream, eggshell, ivory, vanilla, chalk white, alabaster; he never knew there were so many different colors of white until dresses, invitations, flowers, and shoes were brought up.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14** \- The Trial, Part 1

 **November 17, 2003**

For those working the weekly grind, Mondays are traditionally endured as the worst day of the week after a leisurely weekend. Monday mornings especially, and the Monday morning in question would be no different. Hermione was to testify about the morning she was hurt, and Rick was killed. The wizard allegedly involved in the warehouse ambush confessed to the crime upon his arrest, in the hopes of a more lenient sentence.

Hermione, and four witnesses who had just happened to walk by the building in question the morning of the incident, waited in the gallery behind the prosecution and defense desks. Practically the entire Hit Wizard division was present, many of Hermione's friends and supporters, and Harry sitting next to her. At nine a.m. the doors to the Wizengamot chamber opened and two Hit Wizards entered the chamber with a bedraggled wizard. Hermione already knew who he was. Wallace Darcy, aged 46, formerly from Bristol. He had been residing in a make-shift jail at the Ministry with the other 36 wizards and witches that had been arrested and awaiting trial. Some of the ones with a minor charge, like Ron, had been sent home with a monitoring bracelet and put under house arrest.

The Hit Wizards stood Darcy between them while five magistrates entered the chamber and took seats in the area where the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot usually sat. Since this wasn't a full Wizengamot trial, ordinary criminal proceedings were held by five magistrates, five who also held Wizengamot seats and were experienced criminal advocates or prosecutors. Five magistrates for criminal trials was voted upon by the Wizengamot, and there had to be a majority vote for conviction.

The wizard seated in the middle of the five spoke. "Let it be known on this day, the 17th of November of the common era 2003, this session is called to order. Will the accused state his name for the record?"

He cleared his throat. "Wallace Darcy."

"Mr. Darcy, do you understand the charges that have been brought against you stemming from events of September 30th? That of aiding and abetting smuggling, destruction of property, assault with grievous bodily injury, and involuntary manslaughter?"

Wallace's face paled and he nodded. "Yes sir, I know the charges."

"Very well, you may be seated. The prosecution may begin."

Master Prosecutor Kenneth Green stood and straightened his robe. "Honorable magistrates see before you William Darcy, who is indeed charged with aiding and abetting an illegal international smuggling operation. He is also charged with destruction of property that led to a charge of assault with grievous injury to Hit Witch Hermione Granger, and the charge of involuntary manslaughter of Hit Wizard Richard Portman. He confessed to the charges while awaiting trial in the hopes of leniency. We know why, and we can understand why he would. Confession is good for the soul, as the saying goes. Realizing the gravity of the charges against him, the testimony of today's witnesses, the evidence, and the results of the seventeen previous trials, confession is also good for the defense. We will present eye-witness testimony of the morning in question and sworn affidavits from three others that were convicted that name William Darcy in their affidavits. That concludes my opening statement."

The chief magistrate scribble on a parchment and looked to the defense advocate, Frank Trumble. "The defense may begin."

Mr. Trumble stood. "Honorable Magistrates, yes, my client confessed to these crimes, but a confession does not mean an automatic guilty verdict. He is entitled to the due process of our legal system, which he will admittedly take full advantage of today. My client is not an evil man. He has not been convicted of a serious crime in his life before this. I also submit that Mr. Darcy suffered mental trauma during the Voldemort war, confirmed by an experienced St. Mungo's trauma counselor. This trauma certainly could have led to an altered state of mind, culminating in Mr. Darcy's appearance in this chamber this morning. That concludes my opening statement."

The chief magistrate scribbled on his parchment and spoke. "Prosecutor Green, you may call your first witness."

The prosecutor stood. "I call Wilhelmina Rockford as my first witness."

The chief magistrate stood and pointed out a comfortable-looking chair below the lectern, facing the chamber. "Mrs. Rockford, please come forward and sit in the chair below us."

Mr. Rockford patted his wife's hand and she took the indicated seat. The prosecutor stood behind his lectern and began.

"Mrs. Rockford, I understand that you've submitted pensive memories of the morning in question?"

"Yes, I have."

"Very good. Can you tell us of the events of the morning of November 17th?"

"I remember it, plain as day. Mr. Rockford and I own a greengrocer on Diagon Alley, for 32 years now. That morning we were laying out some apples when I noticed a man pushing a box through the side window of the building across the way. I didn't think anything of it, stuff like that happens all the time there, so I kept on with the apples."

"Would you be able to identify the man pushing a box through the window?"

"Sure, he's right there," she said, pointing at Darcy.

"Chief Magistrate, please note that the witness positively identifies the accused, Wallace Darcy."

"Noted, continue."

"I was about finished with the apples when a young witch stopped at the cart and bought an apple. She started eating it and told me that she bought fruit and vegetables there all the time. I thanked her for her business and then she leaned against the front post, all casual like, and asked me about the goings-on across the street."

"Who was the young witch?"

Mrs. Rockford pointed to Hermione. "Her, up there in the gallery with Mr. Potter."

"Chief Magistrate, please note that the witness positively identifies Miss Hermione Granger."

"Noted. Continue."

"And what did you tell Miss Granger?"

Mrs. Rockford cocked her head sideways and thought before she spoke. "That I hadn't seen anyone coming in or out of that place for a few years now. Some places never got repaired or used after the war. She thanked me, wished me a good day, and walked across the street to the window side of the building. I went inside my shop to clean the windows and I saw Miss Granger walk by the window and look in. She kept on walking to the far side of the building, still eating that apple."

"Why did you continue to look at Miss Granger after she left?"

Mrs. Rockford shrugged. "I can't help but see, it's right there in my sight when I look up. I thought I had seen her somewhere before, turns out I did, she was in the papers and such. I was curious, I guess, why she'd be looking in the window of an empty building."

"Mrs. Rockford, I know the next part of the story will be difficult, but can you tell it as best you can?"

She nodded. "Not long after Miss Granger walked to the far side of the building, there was a loud racket from inside and then the window side of the building blew out! Mr. Rockford came from inside the shop and told me to stay put while he went across the way. Others from the alley went to the mess too. A few minutes later, a crowd of people from the Ministry showed up. They took a covered body from the building, put Miss Granger on a stretcher, and left. Some Ministry people asked me and Mr. Rockford some questions and then we went about our day."

"Very well, Mrs. Rockford, thank you. No more questions for the witness, magistrates."

"Advocate Trumble, your turn."

The advocate stood. "Mrs. Rockford, how long did you say you've had your shop in Diagon Alley?"

"32 years."

"So, you're confident of the goings-on there?"

"Of course, I'm there most days."

"If you don't mind my asking, what is your age?"

"59."

"Do you wear spectacles?"

"No."

"Have you ever been to a healer to have your eyes examined?"

"No."

"Has anyone approached you about speaking at this hearing?"

"Why, yes. The prosecutor here sent me a letter and made an appointment with me to get my statement, schedule an eye examination, and put my memories in a pensive."

"You weren't compelled or forced to be here today?"

"Certainly not, we're free to do as we please, aren't we? I _wanted_ to tell what happened, someone died after all."

Hermione expected this line of questioning. The advocate was doing his job, that of trying to cast any sliver of doubt in the witnesses. However, in this line of questioning, there was no doubt of Mrs. Rockford's veracity and pensive memory of the morning in question.

"Thank you, Mrs. Rockford. I have no more questions for this witness."

"Mrs. Rockford, you're excused. As for the rest of us, we'll have a ten-minute recess before the next witness."

Harry bought Hermione a cup of tea from one of the Ministry's refreshment kiosks and she sat on a bench, gazing at the atrium statue.

"Thoughts?" he asked.

She shook her head and took a sip of tea. "Well, just one thought. Ron's case is on the docket for tomorrow afternoon."

"Are you going?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. Some… dirty laundry is going to be displayed."

He snorted.

" _And_ the newspapers made his arrest as salacious as possible, it'll be the same with his trial," she sighed.

"Can't be helped, he brought all this on himself," he stated.

She nodded. "I know, but I just can't get my head wrapped around why he would wreck his family's trust, his job, and his relationship with me by doing something so thoughtless."

After the break, testimony resumed, and Mr. Rockford testified. His testimony was much like his wife's apart from going to the damaged building and finding Hermione and Rick. The third witness was the attendant at Magical Menagerie, who said that she had seen Hermione crossing the street while eating an apple. When Hermione walked out of sight and the explosion was heard, she rushed to see what had happened. She reported seeing Hermione, unconscious and injured, among the mess of bricks, glass and wood and Rick laying not far away. Doing his duty, the advocate cross-examined the witnesses, although there really wasn't much to examine about their testimony.

Hermione, the day's most pertinent witness, was slated to testify next. She prepared herself mentally as best she could, knowing how difficult it would be would testify about Rick. She was startled from her musings by the prosecutor's voice.

"Miss Granger?"

Harry squeezed her hand. "All right?"

Back into awareness, she saw that the entire chamber was looking at her.

"Miss Granger are you prepared to testify?" the chief magistrate asked.

"Yes sir."

She gave Harry a last glance before she left the gallery. She walked across the chamber and sat in the admittedly comfortable chair and settled in. Comfortable chairs made it easier to talk, she guessed, and the chief magistrate spoke.

"Miss Granger, the DMLE has declassified the information relating to this case, as well as the larger smuggling operation. You can speak freely."

"Yes sir."

The prosecutor started. "Miss Granger, what brought about the surveillance of address number fifteen in Diagon Alley?"

She nodded. "In June of this year, the DMLE learned from another Ministry department that a number of people were caught attempting to bypass inspections of imported goods and avoid the taxes on said goods. The Hit Wizards were tasked with the initial investigations, and my former partner and I were assigned surveillance on address number fifteen in Diagon Alley. My partner and I observed the location over the course of two weeks, and we had planned to make an arrest on the day in question."

She paused, took a deep breath, and continued. "Rick took the far end of the building, and I took the Diagon Alley end. I engaged in conversation with Mrs. Rockford, bought an apple, and continued to the building. I walked by the window on the east side of the building and looked briefly inside. I noted 3 crates and continued to the far side of the building where Rick was waiting. We initially decided to enter the building through the window, but it was spelled to prevent opening. Rick said that it odd for the building to have no door and wondered if it was charmed to be invisible. We then worked our way around the perimeter of the building, testing the walls at various locations for a hidden door."

"And did you find doors?"

"Yes, two, on the north and south sides of the building. Simple but clever, really, to charm the doors. We disabled the spell on the north side door and entered. As soon as we were inside, the door slammed shut. We attempted to open it again, but it must have been spelled to open only for the person who set the spell. That's when the bells and sirens started sounding inside the space, indicating that we must have tripped an alarm. We next tried the window by trying to break it, but it was shielded. Out of options, knowing that someone must be on the way, we attempted to apparate out. That failed too, when we ran into an anti-apparition ward. We fell to the floor and were disoriented from spell backlash."

"So you would say that someone did some extensive spellwork to keep people out?"

"Yes sir, and once inside, trapped inside. We decided that brute force would be necessary to get out the building, so we both prepared to cast the _bombarda_ spell on the north door. We were interrupted when the door and window started to vibrate. Just as I threw up a shield, the window… exploded, for lack of a better word. I was hit with debris and thrown across the room, furthering my disorientation. I felt pain from my head and arm and blacked out. The next thing I know, I woke in St. Mungo's."

"How long do you estimate the incident inside lasted before you lost awareness?"

She thought before she spoke. "Two minutes."

"What injuries did you endure?"

She pointed to the area just above her hairline. "A fracture of the orbital bone, concussion, broken wrist, and numerous lacerations and deep tissue bruising."

"When did you learn of the death of Mr. Portman?"

She took a deep breath to calm her pounding heart. "A couple of days after I woke."

"Before this incident, did you manage to record any evidence?"

She nodded. "Photographs of individuals entering the building with crates and bins, Mr. Darcy putting bins through the window, and pensive memories of what we witnessed."

"How was it determined that the building wasn't a storage building or used for business?"

"We attained the deed for the building and learned that it was registered under a name we now know to be an alias. After the incident, the bins and crates were taken into evidence. The goods found inside the bin require a permit for storage, and there was no permit on record with the deed. The building also has no business permit on file."

"Chief Magistrate, all of the evidence for this case has been entered into the record," the prosecutor stated.

"Noted."

"I've concluded this line of questioning, but I request permission to recall Miss Granger at a later time if necessary."

"Granted. Advocate, you may begin your questions."

"Miss Granger, how many investigations have you taken part in during your time at the Ministry?"

"With which department, sir?"

"Both, aren't investigative procedures similar from department to department?"

"I'd say so, yes sir."

"So, the number?"

"According to my files, fourteen up until the incident."

"You would consider yourself an experienced investigator?"

"I would."

"Are investigations usually as eventful as the one in question?"

She shook her head. "No, most are uneventful."

"On the day in question, before you entered the building, did you ever see anyone enter or leave the building?"

"No."

"While inside, did anyone enter the building aside from yourself and Mr. Portman?"

"No."

"How do you know that my client is the one that caused your injuries?"

She shrugged. "I don't. I only know his confession and his pensive memories that I viewed of the day in question."

"What do you know for certain?"

"That he delivered a crate through the window that morning."

"How do you know that?"

"By viewing Mrs. Rockford's and Mr. Darcy's pensive memories. Mrs. Rockford saw Darcy put a bin through the window, and Darcy's own pensive showed him delivering a crate through the window. I feel I've been very clear on this."

Hermione had been warned that placing doubt about pensive memories was an ages-old defense strategy.

The prosecutor stood. "I object, chief magistrate. It is well-known that pensives used for criminal justice purposes are tested and verified for authenticity before use. If the defense suspects that the pensive memories submitted as evidence aren't genuine, then he needs to make a motion for that. Otherwise, I request that we move on from these pensive questions."

The chief magistrate looked to the defense advocate. "Advocate?"

"No motion is needed. I will refrain from further pensive inquiry."

"Do you have more questions for Miss Granger?"

"No, chief magistrate, not at this time. I do, however, request permission to recall Miss Granger later if need be."

"Granted. There will be a ten-minute recess before the defendant is called to testify."

#

In the Wizengamot atrium, Harry and Hermione ignored the hawker for the Daily Prophet.

"Well, that was aggravating," Harry said and bit into a biscuit.

Hermione dunked hers into a cup of tea and took a bite. "The advocate is just doing his job, love. Your trials are different. With a full Wizengamot assembly, trying an Azkaban-bound dark wizard, more direct methods are used to verify guilt. This is an ordinary criminal trial of a minor player."

They sighed when they saw a well-known reporter for The Daily Prophet approach them.

"Miss Granger, Quincy Hammond from the _Daily Prophet_. Can I ask you a few questions?"

"No comment."

"But I haven't asked you anything."

"No comment."

He looked to Harry who replied, "No comment."

The reporter sighed heavily and walked away. Harry and Hermione gave each other a high-five and returned to the court room.


End file.
